


Through the Dark

by Mr_Stylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 18-Year-Old Harry, Abused Harry, Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Adopted Harry, Alternate Universe, Animal Abuse, Anxiety, Arguing, Attempted Murder, Bad Parenting, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Domestic Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Fluff, Gaslighting, Happy Ending, Hurt Harry, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, Implied Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sexual Abuse, Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Minor Character Death, Narcissism, Physical Abuse, Protective Liam, Protective Louis, Protective Niall, Protective Zayn, Rebellion, Sad Harry, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Verbal Abuse, badass louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 21:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10345380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Stylinson/pseuds/Mr_Stylinson
Summary: AU. Orphaned due to a tragedy, Harry is adopted by an American family and grows up on a horse farm. To most children, this would be a dream come true, but as Harry grows into adulthood, he realizes that things are not as happy as they seem.Alone with no friends, just his family who yells at, insults, and severely manipulates him on a daily basis while surrounded by borderline neglected farm animals, Harry is an overworked farmhand who is denied access to the outside world. He periodically struggles with depression, suicidal fantasies, and overwhelming loneliness. He mostly keeps quiet, trying his best to please his family, which almost never seems to be possible. This is his life, and nothing is likely to make it any better.That is until the curly-haired lad hears a certain English/Irish boyband on the radio one day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first ever One Direction fanfic. I hope you enjoy. Possible trigger warnings, depends on how much you might be affected particularly by yelling, swearing, and loud arguing.
> 
> Since this is an AU, some things/facts may not be accurate. This is also partially (not fully) based on actual events.
> 
> Also, Harry's adoptive family sucks.

A father, a mother, and a daughter, cruelly taken from this world by a careless individual who decided to get behind the wheel while under the influence. The couple had taken their daughter out to a celebratory dinner for her graduation, leaving their infant son with a babysitter. The drunk driver, of course, was the only one involved who survived the crash. One of the police officers was given the undesirable duty of informing the babysitter of the news. When he arrived at the family's place of residence, he knocked on the door and patiently waited, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to deliver.

The child would be placed up for adoption at a local orphanage after authorities failed to find any other relatives of the family. An American couple traveling abroad had been looking to adopt an English son or daughter. They paid a visit to the orphanage as they were passing through town and immediately fell in love with one of the children. The boy in particular was named “Harry”, the family learned of the tragedy that ultimately sent young Harry here in the first place. The mother insisted that they couldn't possibly leave the country without taking that beautiful little boy with them. The orphanage was hesitant at first to send the boy with the family, where he would grow up in a completely different land. But the mother of the family persisted. While they weren't wealthy, they lived comfortably, each of the parents earning a median salary, the boy they were itching to bring home with them would have two older sisters and two older brothers, they lived on a farm where they raised horses, chickens, dogs, and more.

Finally, the orphanage was convinced that this family would be ideal and allowed the Americans to proceed with the adoption process. Once everything was settled, the family would then work to get their newest addition to the family a passport and eventually his U.S. Citizenship. While at the airport, the mother excitedly told her children over the phone about the news.

The parents, along with their two birth daughters, and two adopted American sons lived in rural Pacific Northwest, roughly 12 miles south of the Washington State capital. The now family of seven resided on a 20-acre piece of hilly land, with plenty of trees surrounding the property, a small barn, or some sort of fencing could be seen around nearly every corner, no matter which way you looked. Horses watched with boredom as you walked by, only showing any real excitement during feeding time, dogs periodically barked at literally nothing, it would seem like a semi typical farm with a moderately sized family.

Honestly though, virtually any child, orphanage or not, would kill to be adopted into a family that lived on a horse farm. To almost any child, growing up around horses and other animals with multiple siblings would be considered a dream, almost too good to be true.

Unfortunately, it really was too good to be true.

* * *

 18 year old Harry messaged the top of his head, running his fingers through his soft curls, trying his best to ignore the arguing that he could hear almost clearly hear despite being upstairs, hiding in his bedroom as he'd long since grown accustomed to. He learned from a young age that his parents couldn't be any farther from a “happy, loving couple”, it was merely a show they put on in front of strangers, it effectively hid who they really were behind closed doors. They were at each others throats nearly every day, either about money, the ever increasing amount of livestock, literally anything they could think of. They would even go off on small things, maybe one of them spilled a little flour in the kitchen, or one didn't wipe their shoes enough, dirtying the already filthy carpet.

The farm's population had grown immensely, Harry was positive that he had counted more than 300 animals at the place, which was an overwhelming number for the amount of space they had on their land. Animals were almost packed like sardines, too many horses living in one pasture, not a single blade of grass grew in the too small paddocks. And when the weather was wet, it would become a swamp, horses trudged through ankle-deep mud, the poultry was practically swimming, dogs sat atop doghouses, even in the pouring rain, because the ground of their kennels was soaked with a mixture of mud and feces. When Harry was old enough, it would solely become his duty to care for all of the animals, mostly just making sure that they had food and plenty of clean water. The others took care of what he considered to be the dirtier work, cleaning out the horse stalls and chicken coops, only whenever they decided that it was deplorable enough to even warrant such effort. The family never had veterinarians come for a visit, knowing full well how much trouble they would get into as no vet would hesitate to report them to the authorities. This annoyed Harry, even though he had grown to dislike taking care of animals, he hated seeing them suffer, partially because he himself was suffering, but not only that, he felt like there was nothing he could do about it, for him or for the poor animals. He also detested listening to his family complain about much work it is, how expensive it is, and how tempted they are to just sell or give away everything, only for them to do squat and continue on with the unhealthy lifestyle. The complaining would never stop, yet nothing would ever change. At one point, Harry became so frustrated that he tried to take action, however, it didn't end well for him, it only made his family even more mad at him than they typically were on most days, they even threatened to have him thrown in jail. Harry only assumed that if he had managed to expose the family to the authorities, they would have banded together and attempted to blame everything on him. He was too overwhelmed to argue that day, he just hid in his room, eager for the day to end.

“Don't tell anyone about what goes on around here.” He would be warned, time and time again.

The reward never came close to matching the amount of work, not to mention stress that he endured from a seemingly simple job. The task known as “feeding time” required him to pull a cart loaded down with a bale of hay and drag it around the property, tossing flake after flake of the dusty dry grass over fences, lugging around sacks of feed for the poultry, carefully treading into the dog kennels to dump them their food, none of the dogs were necessarily friendly, as they are never handled by their owners, they were borderline feral.

It didn't matter if the weather was very horrendous, and/or if Harry was fighting a cold, he still had to do the job he was given, or get an earful. To be honest though, Harry didn't mind the physical work, that isn't what bothers him about the whole deal.

It didn't matter how much work he did, how much effort he put into making sure his job was done properly, ensuring that the animals were cared for to the best of his ability, someone, anyone, be it his mother, sisters, or father would always manage to find something that he didn't do good enough, and they would constantly remind him about it, while ignoring anything that he actually did do. And this wasn't just an occasional occurrence, it was virtually all the time. He learned a long time ago that defending himself was frowned upon, so he merely kept his mouth shut and silently accepted whatever harsh words his family threw at him.

Harry looked around his room, a mountain of white clothes that belonged to his mother was piled in front of his TV set, his closet was half full of his sisters' belongings that they never bothered to take with them when they moved into their own places, the second oldest still lived on the farm in a trailer, just a short walk down the driveway, Harry still saw her plenty. There was box full of Christmas gifts that he wasn't the least bit interested in. Because what 18 year old wouldn't be ecstatic about white and baby blue blankets with obviously cute dinosaurs on them? He sighed and sat down on a giant plush horse. He had no friends, never did. He'd been home-schooled from the get-go, his parents rarely ever took him out to interact with people, not even kids his age. He remembers when he was younger, openly telling his mother that he was lonely and wanted to play with other kids. She would either give him an empty promise that he knew she wouldn't keep, or she would just ignore him.

All of his siblings were older than him, the age gap between Harry and the second youngest of the family was 5 years. He was never super close with them, they were more interested in each other, as their ages were more similar. Whenever they did pay much attention to Harry, he would wish that they wouldn't. He was just such an easy target for seemingly innocent teasing, often being left to a pile of tears while the four older children jeered at him. He would try to seek refuge within his parents, sometimes he would get it, sometimes he wouldn't.

The two brothers were adopted themselves, though they were American. As far as Harry knew, their mother was a drug addict and the two boys somehow wound up with this family. They were notorious troublemakers, they stole food, goodies, or just about anything of interest or value. They were locked in their bedroom most of the time, even having been provided with a metal coffee can to use as a toilet. The younger of the two eventually ran away, and the older one would follow about a year later. Harry noticed how interested his father had become in keeping tabs on them since they left, which is how he even knew that the two of them have been in and out of prison.

Harry did eventually grow somewhat closer to his sisters. Though he eventually realized how much it felt like walking on egg shells. They could either be relatively nice and sweet, as if they were your best friend, even treating you to lunch or a movie, or, without warning, they would be your worst enemy. They would sing your secrets to the world just to make you suffer while they watched innocently on the sidelines, laughing at your dispense.

He definitely noticed how his father transformed into a flat out bully after his brothers ran away. He would pick and pick and pick at Harry, as if his only reason to live was to make his son miserable, Harry would quickly learn to despise his father's company, and would avoid him whenever possible.

A thick silence enveloped Harry, almost suffocating him. His parents had ceased their verbal skirmish. That didn't put him at ease though, he knew that they were simply a time-bomb waiting to explode yet again. Just as eruptly as they could start flapping their jaws while bellowing at the top of their lungs, enough for the whole house to shake, they could stop on a dime, as if nothing had transpired just seconds beforehand. It was bad enough whenever they were yelling at him, but even if they were having a go at each other instead, it didn't make him feel any less stressed. Just having to listen to their horrific screeches was enough to jump-start his anxiety.

He put his face in his hands as his eyes started to warm, chocolate curls gracefully falling over his face. He knew it was bad to think such thoughts, but he sometimes wished that he was dead. Because really, what does he have to live for? Again, no friends, thanks to his parents, he almost never even saw relatives, it didn't help that his parents were on such bad terms with the rest of their extended families that they were always excluded from gatherings. He didn't have a job, a real job. His parents won't let him get one, they insisted that the time he could spend working is best spent at the farm that he's grown to dislike more and more, with no other company than a family who he truly feels that he hates, as strong of a word as he knows it is. Despite being of legal age to drive, they wouldn't let him get a car, much less teach him how to drive, or even how to work under the hood. At the very least, they got him a bicycle for his 18th birthday, he was thankful enough to have at least some way to get around, but even then there were restrictions. They required permission if he ever wanted to leave the premises, and more often than not, they would say “no”. Harry would try to argue that he was an adult and could make decisions on his own.

“You may be 18, but you're still our son and we care about you.” They would brush him off with some comment that would only leave him feeling degraded and humiliated. Harry could at least ride his bike up and down the driveway. It wasn't a super comfortable ride though, the gravel path was full of potholes, and he often had to maneuver around the constant stream of traffic from the neighbors whom they shared the driveway with.

Harry rarely spoke, which often irritated his family. He wasn't mute by any means, but his family was very difficult to hold even a small conversation with. He couldn't talk about his interests, what he would like to do in the future, or anything. His opinions were never respected, and they often made fun of him. Sometimes, they would directly ask for his thoughts on something, like a TV show, or ask for his vote on what restaurant they should go to. But whenever he did, his words were immediately shut down, and each and every one of them would express their own reasons on why they think his opinions are stupid. Since then, every time they would try to pry something out of him, he would automatically respond with “I don't know”, even if that wasn't true and he really did know what his opinion was, he knew better than to share it with these people, he knew they were only looking for a reason to put him down.

One evening at the dinner table, he brought up his interest in singing, which he'd developed at a very young age. Almost everyone actually had good words to say about it. “I think you could hit it big.” “You do have really good voice.” Harry was genuinely shocked at the surprisingly kind words that came from their mouths. The short lived joy building up inside of him vanished when his mother emitted a scoff.

“Oh, what a load of shit, you'd never make a living.” Her obnoxious voice assaulted Harry's ears. No one bothered to defend him, and he knew it was futile to defend himself, so he sat there and ate the rest of his dinner in silence, while everyone else effortlessly carried on with other discussions.

One day, while doing his usual chores, Harry noticed that the supply of dog food was getting low. He sent a text to his mother, who was still in town, with the smartphone that they had practically given to him by force.

“Most kids your age would be dying for a cell phone.” His mother would say.

 _Most kids my age actually have social lives where a cell phone would be of any use._ He thought bitterly, knowing better than to verbally express said thoughts.

His mother arrived home with no dog food. She didn't notice the text message Harry sent her, and of course, it was all his fault that the dogs would go hungry for a day.

“Don't ever let them go without food again.” She scolded. “How would you like it if you went without food for a day?”

There were so many things Harry wanted to say in response, but he said nothing. He was a master at staying silent even during an onslaught of negative words. In fact, he'd lost count of how many times his mother asked “Are you stupid?” Note, it was a question, not a direct statement, to which the receiver might actually ponder over it and wonder if they really are stupid. Sometimes, there were non-question remarks, such as “You can't do anything right!” It didn't exactly feel any better than the “stupid” question, and they generally went hand in hand.

Another point in time, Harry rushed into the house, really needing to wee. Normally, he would have just gone outside behind a tree, but he was close to the house, and he liked being able to wash his hands, he valued sanitation, which the same could not be said with regards to his father, who rarely washed his hands after using the toilet. And speaking of whom...

Harry sighed with relief as he emptied his full bladder. As he was finishing up, he noticed his father standing at the open doorway which Harry never bothered to close as he was in too much of a hurry to not wee in his pants. The man stood sideways, as if he was walking by but then stopped, his hand rested on his hip, and his gaze clearly directed at somewhere that was certainly not Harry's face, but below it. Neither of them spoke a word, they both knew what was going on. Finally, the man had enough and walked on. Harry quietly pulled up his pants and zipped them up before washing his hands. He didn't necessarily feel shocked about what had just happened, but it did leave him feeling very uncomfortable. Not once did he ever consider telling anyone else in the family, he was already distrustful in all of them that he agreed to keep it to himself.

Similar events would happen two more times. The third time, Harry had just gotten out of bed and was using the bathroom. Past events weren't readily on his mind and the bathroom door was wide open. It was rather early on a Saturday, so he assumed that everyone was in still in bed.

“Good morning.” A familiar voice belonging to the much older man chirped all too cheerfully.

He didn't even jump or flinch, instead, he calmly glanced over to see his father coming up the steps, a toothy grin plaster on his face. He didn't stop to... admire his son like he had before, but the expression on his face was more than enough to haunt the younger man as his father walked by. Harry could only imagine exactly why his father looked so pleased to see his son, who was standing over the toilet with his boxers down, exposed.

From that day forward, Harry made a mental note to _always_ make sure to close the bathroom door.

Occasionally, Harry would get a break from the same boring scenery of the depressing farm that he saw daily. His oldest sister would enlist his help on watching over her three, monstrous children so that she could go grocery shopping. Harry always opted to tag along with her rather than stay at her house and watch them, there was no way he could handle them all by himself. The second eldest sister, who was single and had no kids, thank God, would periodically offer him to accompany her during her trips into town, either for her doctor appointments, or just browsing a clothing store. As much as Harry decided that he preferred being alone rather than spending time with his siblings, the desire to get away from the farm, even just for a few hours, was often stronger than his instincts telling him to keep to himself.. Even during these times, he rarely spoke much unless there happened to be a particular topic that the two of them found common ground on. He simply did not trust any of them enough to open up about what was on his mind.

Harry and his single pringle sister were driving home from an errand run, while she happily sang aloud to the song on the radio, Harry's lips were sealed, as per usual. It wasn't even a song he cared for. He emitted a silent sigh of boredom, he'd already began to wonder if he was dealing with depression, especially with how it seemed that he rarely felt happy, few things never seemed to light up his world anymore. Of course, he did also take into consideration that he didn't live with the most kindest of people. No, they weren't necessarily evil, but with the way that their extended families avoided them, the way that their circle of friends had long since shrunk to nothing, and the way they seem to really hate one another, seeing as they can seldom be in the same room without breaking into some sort of argument, especially loud ones.

It really wasn't fair, Harry knew by now how normal families worked. Yes, arguments and fights sometimes did occur, but never at the rate of which they did with his family. If there was a problem bothering someone, there would usually be some sort of meeting held for the sole purpose of bring whatever issues there was to light. Meanwhile, Harry's family just sat there, either with their arms crossed or their lips stuck out in a pout, absolutely no desire to speak to each other unless it was to argue some more. Most families were at least a little social, most families didn't constantly degrade their children with harmful words, most families didn't secretly keep a farm full of neglected livestock. It occurred to him that the animals were probably the main reason why his family was so anti-social. Any person, vet or not, in their right mind would be horrified at the conditions of the place. The animals should have dry, green open fields, not muddy swamps. The dogs should be trained, handled, and exercised regularly, not kept in tiny, dirty poop-ridden kennels, only being tossed a scoop of dry kibble each day that they clearly didn't like and often let it go to waste. The horses should be groomed, and their hooves trimmed, the father of the family knew how to care of their hooves, but it was usually far more work than he cared to do, and so it rarely ever happened. Some of the horses lived inside the barns, their stalls hardly in better condition than the dog kennels. Some of them lived outside in muddy pastures, with nothing but a tarp over a rickety frame for a shelter, which was prone to collapsing in heavy rains or strong winds.

Harry still fondly remembers how he got spend one Christmas helping his sister and father move a horse that was too ill to stand. The poor beast's shelter was destroyed in a storm a couple of years prior, yet it remained in the same pasture, with no one besides Harry bothering to lift a finger to try and alleviate the animal's lack of weather protection, thus it was likely weakened from constant exposure. As expected, the family was not interested in calling a vet, and while their excuse was “too expensive”, Harry knew that it was actually because they didn't want to be reported to the police. The three of them dragged the suffering creature to a horse trailer where it could at least be dry and warm. It died the next day at 3 years old, still a very young age for a horse. Although the family acted devastated at the loss, Harry refused to believe that they truly cared, this was far from the first time they had lost a pet or some livestock that was under their “loving care”, and when it did happen, it was the same exact reaction, every single time. This time was a little different, however. Normally when one of the animals died, be it from sickness, natural causes, or some sort of injury that none of them could have prevented, he was often blamed for their deaths, but he managed to dodge accusations this once. Harry didn't claim ownership to any of the animals on the farm, not that he wanted to anyway, yet it was always his fault and his responsibility when something bad happened. Add that to the long list of reasons why he hates living with this family.

Although he never got a chance to know what his birth family was like, he allowed his curiosity to wander. Were they nice, kind, and loving? Would they have treated him the same way this family does? Would he be happier if he were with them, dead or alive? He always settled on the likelihood that they were probably nice, kind, and loving. They would willingly listen to what he had to say, with no intention of using it against him in any hurtful way. They would never make him feel worthless, they would respect him, love him unconditionally. They would be a real family. If only they were still alive...

_Hm, keep dreaming, Harry. Instead, you're stuck with this “family” for rest of your days._

He didn't want to be though. He wanted to get a life, get a job, maybe even go to college, he most certainly wanted to move out, he wanted to make friends, interact with people other than his family who he sees everyday. He wanted to pursue his dream of becoming a singer, even though his mother had no kind words to say about, he was still willing to try. So what if it didn't work out? He would never know unless he tried it. He just didn't know when, or if the chance would ever come.

Harry was definitely experiencing depression. He smiled less, he laughed less, he spoke less, even less so than usual, his mind remained a fog, blue, a low feeling that wasn't overly desirable, but in all honesty, he didn't know what else to feel. He walked with his head down most days, he would receive cruel or manipulative words from his family with a stoic expression, he did his chores with no energy for complaints, he felt it was pointless to plan out his future, because as far as he could tell, he had no future, and probably never would have one.

His sisters took notice of his constant gloom, they even tried to point it out to their mother. “He'll get over it.” She shrugged, not even hiding her apathy.

“Depression isn't something that you just “get over””, the sisters argued.

“So?” The mother loudly scoffed. “I don't care. He needs to buck the fuck up and stop feeling sorry for himself.”

_That's the thing, you don't care. I can't believe that there was ever even a time where you actually did._

There was no denying that depression seemed to be running in the family. The countless times his mother exclaimed how much she hated her life, the dozens of times that both of his sisters admitted that they wanted to kill themselves, the occasional time where his father complained about how tired he was of everything.

Harry started to grow out his hair, as always his mother would leave no cruel word unspoken.

“Why do you want to look like a girl?”

“Your hair looks horrible.”

“Boys aren't supposed to have long hair.”

Oddly enough, his father and sisters would actually defend against his mother's comments, though it didn't quite put Harry at any ease. And there was good reason for that.

“Mom's right, your hair does look pretty bad.” The oldest sister mocked, as if standing up for him barely two days ago meant nothing to her. “You should get it cut. I know of a good place I like to go to to get my hair done, I'm sure they would give you a pretty nice crew cut.”

No matter how much they picked at him, Harry refused to give them what he knew they wanted most, a verbal response. Something, anything that they could hold onto and use against him when they see fit. He knew their tactics for getting under his skin, and he refused to give them the ammunition they so desperately sought after.

Sitting alone in his room crying was nothing new to Harry, and the reasons varied. Be it from overwhelming loneliness, it had come to the point where Harry felt like he was alone, even while with his family, it merely emphasized on how distant he'd become with them, and the neglected farm animals could only provide so much companionship of their own. Sometimes he'd wind up sulking to his room in tears because someone had finally pushed him over the edge, but rather than retaliate and lash out, he kept his emotions in check, until it was safe, then he would freely let it all out. While he knew it was good to release what's been kept bottled up, he desperately wished for a comforting hand, no, arms, to wrap him up and rock him, ensuring him that everything was OK. He didn't care who, or even what, he just wanted some form of comforting physical contact.

Well, he did care a little, the last people he wanted to fulfill that wish was his family, as they were the reason he'd wound up in this position in the first place, he had no desire for them to be the one's comforting him.

Was it honestly right for him to complain? He had a dry place to live, he had clothes, he had access to clean water, and as long as his parents bothered to maintain a supply of actual meals, he had food. There are plenty of other people, both in America and all around the world who lack one or more of these things. He's got it made, right? Sure, the house could almost qualify to be on that “Hoarders” TV show, while the house wasn't packed floor to ceiling, the floor at least had a fair amount of clutter, with narrow pathways, not much in terms of garbage, but things like random socks, boxes of dusty magazines, essentially an over abundance of belongings, considerably more than a family this size should ever need, especially since only three people lived in this house now. Harry tried his best keep his own space tidy, but when his mother decided to toss her extra clothes into his room, he stopped trying. Every so often, his mother would angrily snap about how tired she is of the house being such a mess, which meant that they would all have to get to work, well, mostly Harry, and eradicate the clutter. This was a challenge. There were few things his parents were willing to throw away or sell, and so the house maintained it's trademark clutter. What would end up happening is things being stacked neatly or organized to the best of Harry's ability, while other things were crammed into closets, which required one to quickly shut the door in order to contain the impending avalanche of junk.

Virtually none of this stuff belonged to Harry, and he was happy enough to keep it that way. Of course, with the way things worked in this family, it would still be more his job rather than theirs to take care of it, while they sat on their fat arses in the entertainment room. If Harry didn't know where to put something, he would ask one of them, and they would not so kindly tell him to figure it out himself. Harry could only predict that he was just asking to be called “stupid” yet again if he tried to press any further.

Into the avalanche closet it goes, then.

The garage was worse, but fortunately, Harry didn't have to do anything in there. The garage was much more packed, full of even more junk that belonged to someone in the family other than him. Ever since the house was built, the garage had instantly become a storage space. There had yet to ever be a car inside the two-car garage full of crap, and in it's current state, there likely never will. On top of the floor clutter, counter-tops and tables were always piled with this or that. It was becoming less and less common that they would sit at the dining room table for dinner. Even if it were to be cleaned off entirely, junk would always accumulate back onto it. That was the same story no matter what part of the house was relieved of excess stuff, it was guaranteed to return. This was the only reason Harry hated cleaning, that and no matter how good of job he actually did, it was _never_ goof enough, particularly for his mother, and she wasn't afraid to let him know how bad of a job she thinks he did. Nothing new there though.

If the clutter wasn't bad enough, the filth certainly was. His mother tried relentlessly to raise an indoor dog, never had she ever successfully raised one that was house-trained. Scattered dark, wet spots were on the carpet, piles of dog shit were a common discovery, be it by smell, sight, or physical contact with one's foot.

On that note, Harry had to admit that not _every_ day was spent in totally miserable loneliness and depression, some days he actually likes to look back to, and it always manages to make him smile, or laugh, or both. On yet another Christmas day, he was sitting in the entertainment room, happy to be alone, the TV played in the background while he admired the fake Christmas tree donning multi-colored lights and a rather large amount of ornaments. His mother was currently on house dog number five, two of them having been discarded to kennels outside, and the other two of them dying for one reason or another. While sitting there, not thinking of anything in particular, Harry was actually enjoying the peace, no one was arguing, or bitching about their lives. He knew that at some point in the day, it wouldn't last, but he would still enjoy it while he can. But then he heard his father curse from the other side of the house.

“Oh, damn it, I stepped in a pile of dog shit...” Harry exhaled through his nose, emitting a silent chuckle at his father's misfortune.

“Oh-- Stepped in another pile!” His father bellowed. “BOTH FEET!” By now, Harry was laughing, as quietly as he could.

“...That damn dog should not be running loose in this house.” The older man muttered to himself. “Son of a bitch.” He cursed as he went to the bathroom to gather a generous amount of toilet paper. For the next five minutes, the whole house was filled with gags, coughs, and retches as the man worked to clean up the mess. By now, Harry let himself go, laughing so hysterically hard, harder than he ever had in a long time, or quite possibly in his life. He pounded both his knee and the seat of the couch during his state of pure joy. Once the retching had subsided along with Harry's own laughter, he coughed a few times to remove the large amount of phlegm that had worked it's way inside of him.

“God damn, that was gross.” His father shuddered as he finished the unpleasantly stinky task. “Shit, that was nasty.”

_Serves you right, you pervert._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn't confuse anyone with the end note of the previous chapter, the "thanks for reading" was intended to be like "thanks for reading", not like "k, the end" or anything...

Harry didn't really know how to cook, his parents couldn't be bothered to teach him, they didn't even want him to use the stove, for fear that he might burn the house down. At first, it might sound like they're joking, but all the same, they still wouldn't let him use the stove. Hence, he relied heavily on either microwavable edibles, leftovers in the fridge, assuming that his father didn't eat them all before going to bed, or junk food. As much as he'd like to at least give cooking a try, the last thing he wanted was to give his parents yet another thing to yell at him about, so he held back. Harry was a skinny lad, always was, and he usually had a ravenous appetite, no matter much he stuffed himself, he never gained an ounce. High metabolism was a nice thing to have, he didn't mind in the slightest that he was skinny, it made him stand from the rest of his family, who were all much heavier than him.

He did try to remind himself again and again that millions of other people have it far worse than he does, and that he really should be thankful for what he's got. It just never felt right, though, as if he was lying to himself. He didn't understand it right away, he had all of the materials he needed to survive each day, lots of other people have none of the above, shouldn't that be enough? Why does he still feel sad and incomplete? Why does he always feel lonely? Why can't he acknowledge that he actually has a good life, and that he should be happy and thankful?

“Harry!” The second oldest sister screamed from the bottom of the stairs “Get your lazy ass down here right now and help us! Horses are loose!”

A simple “there's an emergency and we need your help” would have sufficed. He sighed. Looks like he'll have to think this through later.

Hours into nighttime, they finally managed to corral all of the loose livestock and repair the broken fence. As always, fingers eventually pointed at Harry. Suddenly, it was now his job to also scan the fences during feeding time, look for slightest indication that it might break and allow the animals to run loose. It didn't matter that he was now the official fence inspector for barely one minute, the rest of the family had no intentions of accepting any of the blame that they eagerly unloaded on the youngest member of the family. Harry honestly didn't see a need to blame anyone, accidents happen all the time. One of the horses probably crashed into fence unintentionally, and ultimately created a weak spot that they would later discover.

It was now 10 PM, Harry was tired from so much running, and he was also famished, he didn't have a chance to eat dinner until now. He was also exhausted from the onslaught of accusations and insults that he'd been bombarded with during the past few hours. He made a sandwich and retreated to his room, having spent more time with his family than he really cared to for the day.

He really wished he had friends, or just about anyone who was not his family. Someone he could talk to freely, without fear of being told of every negative trait that could possibly exist within him. Someone who would listen to understand him, not to mock him. Someone who would just comfort him, tell him that he's a good person, and that his family is nothing but a bunch of insane jackasses.

* * *

Harry sat in the passenger seat of the second oldest sister's car as they drove into town. She had a doctor's appointment, but she offered Harry a break from the farm as well as lunch. Harry would have declined, but the temptation of good food was too strong. As they went down the road, the sister chatted about many things, Harry listened but never spoke. She was acting reasonably nice, apparently the way she had spoken to him just yesterday was long gone from her mind. Though maybe her offer to treat him to lunch was her way of apologizing. Ever the hyper-vigilant, Harry remained skeptical. He wasn't about to bring up the events of the previous day and possibly set her off. He simply settled with the notion that she was just trying to be nice for a change, and whether it had anything to do with yesterday or not would remain a mystery.

She loudly sang the final verse of some Rihanna song on the radio as it ended while Harry continued to sit there, relatively still and silent. He was in his own mind, still thinking about how nice it would be to have friends. The rest of his family had jobs, they got to interact with co-workers and strangers alike 5 days a week. Meanwhile, young Harry is still expected to be the .lonesome farmhand, earning a measly $20 USD every third week or so. At least his family gave him something for the amount of work and stress he went through day after day, it wasn't much to sneeze at, but it wasn't nothing either. His thoughts were interrupted when his sister obnoxiously laughed at a joke that the radio DJ made. The DJ then talked about a new song they were about to play by a rising band from Europe, Harry only paid half attention to the name of the band, or the name of the song. His depression was still a thing, he just didn't find anything interesting about much of life anymore, the feeling of true, genuine happiness seemed like nothing more than a distant memory. He wondered if this would ever change, and always came to the conclusion that as long as he was stuck tending to his family's farm of neglected animals, being their verbal punching bag, and never being able to get out on his own and live his life to his own accord, be an independent adult, make his own choices, the depression was likely to stick.

The intro of an upbeat tune filled the car, Harry immediately noticed that he was lightly tapping his foot to it. Depression or not, music was one thing that he still enjoyed to some degree, it was often one of his only escapes from the harsh reality of the life that he lived-- no, the life that his family made him live, but from all that he had listened to in the past, nothing truly kept the sadness at bay. But soon enough he was bobbing his head from side to side as the lyrics began, his soft brown curls swaying from the motion, gently tickling his skin, while the faintest of smiles formed on his face. He would eventually forgot a lot of things in that moment, that he was in the car with his sister, that he was a lonely, depressed 18 year old forced to hide on a shoddy farm almost all the time while the rest of his family worked real jobs and lived real lives outside of the farm. Before he knew it, his voice kicked into gear, and he was singing along to the music that he was falling in love with more and more after each passing second.

“ _Baby, you light up my world like nobody else, the way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed...”_ Harry had listened to a rather wide variety of music over the years, from Nickelback, to the Backstreet Boys, to Eminem, to the Beatles, to George Strait, but one thing he always noticed was how nit-picky he was when it came to songs. There was always a small selection of songs that he cherry-picked from any given artist, and after all this time, he had yet to find an artist that had more than a dozen songs that he would willingly listen to given the opportunity. But there was something about this song, this band, who he'd never even heard of until now, that just seemed... it was hard to explain. But the uplifting lyrics, the catchy tune, it all just clicked in a good way. The tension in his chest was disappearing, the dark fog he always seemed to be trapped in was shrinking, the ghost of a smile on his face was gradually increasing in size. At this rate, his trademark dimples would even be visible.

“ _That's what makes you beautiful--”_ Without warning, the song was cut short, and just as quickly as it vacated the speakers, so did Harry's voice, his smile, and the brightness of his green eyes.

“Ugh, can't believe the shit people listen to these days.” His sister said with disgust as she flipped through the stations. Harry went back to his original position, stoic, silent, and still. Just him and his thoughts. He wasn't sure if his sister had even noticed that he clearly enjoyed the song, and if she had, then he felt as if her recent remark was directed towards him, which wouldn't be surprising. He was used to being made fun of or being put down for his opinions, even still, it hurt just the same.

When they got back home, Harry went straight for his parents' currently empty house and up to his room, starting up the laptop he'd been given a while back but hardly ever used. He opened up the internet browser and went to YouTube, determined to find that song and listen to it in it's entirety. He pulled out a pair of earphones that were still sealed in the package and plugged them into the computer before clicking on a link, after which a familiar intro filled his eager ears.

Despite having listened to only one song, Harry was officially in love with the band, who's name he learned was “One Direction”. They were an English/Irish boyband fresh from a singing competition television show called “The X-Factor”. The four band members had started as individual competitors, but were all eliminated, and would later be joined together by Simon Cowell. Harry went on a marathon, listening to every song of theirs that currently existed. Just when he thought he couldn't be any more of a fan, he would prove himself wrong. By the time he had finished the last song on their new album, he was now reading extensively about the band and it's members. They were all a bunch of good looking young men, and they were talented to boot. He soon accepted the fact that he couldn't ever seem to take his eyes off one of the members in particular, Louis Tomlinson, the oldest of the group, his brown locks, those beautiful, piercing blue eyes, those lips...

Harry felt his cheeks get warm. Did he really just admire the appearance of someone of the same gender as him? He most certainly did not try to imagine what it would feel like to press his lips against Louis', nope, not at all. Harry wasn't homophobic, but he wasn't exactly sure where he himself stood when it came to sexuality. Being cooped up where he was most of the time, he felt like he couldn't effectively explore that. Making fun of gay people wasn't an uncommon trend within the family, though Harry tended to avoid participating out of respect, unless he was pressured by his siblings. He hardly had given it much thought on having a relationship of any kind, he figured he would still be stuck on his family's farm, taking care of responsibilities that weren't technically his to begin with. He wouldn't really have much time to dedicate to anyone, and even if someone happened to come into his life, they would likely wind up fleeing in terror, having been scared away by his crazy family. And by “crazy”, they actually were crazy, it most definitely was not some sort of term of endearment.

He pushed those thoughts to the back his mind and resumed his brushing up on all of the information he could get his hands on about One Direction... especially Louis Tomlinson.

Harry frowned when he noticed how dark it was outside. He glanced at his watched and cursed, it was an hour past feeding time. He was so caught in his newfound obsession that he'd lost track of time. Shutting the laptop closed, he knew that all of those pictures of Louis that he had been admiring would be there when he got back.

Turning on a flashlight, he could only pray that he wouldn't get yelled at too much for his tardiness. As he struggled to make his usual rounds in the dark with a torch in one hand, his fears of what he could expect from his loud family had temporarily vanished as he thought fondly about his new favorite band... and Louis Tomlinson.

When he got back inside the house, his parents were too engrossed with arguing with each other to pay him any mind, and he was fine with that. He wasn't interested in what they were howling about either. Even if their miserable tongues weren't directed at him, he still didn't like to stick around and listen to any of it. He quickly made himself a sandwich and retreated to his room before either of them could decide that they needed their daily dose of “emotionally abuse Harry”. He ended up going to bed late, having spent several more hours watching videos and interviews featuring One Direction before realizing that he was tired and ready for bed.

Harry started to get braver about his love for One Direction in spite of his family. He bought their album and listened to it heavily, he started wearing t-shirts and wristbands, he had a poster on every wall as well as the back of his door, his laptop and bicycle helmet were covered with band-themed stickers. His family started to question him about it seemingly out of pure curiosity, as he hadn't formally told them yet about his new interest, not that he had originally planned to. He knew what they were like whenever he shared something about himself to them, and there was no way he was going to let them try and ruin this, not a chance in hell.

The family decided to get together and go eat out for dinner one night, partially because neither of the parents felt like cooking. After driving in circles, twice, in search of a parking space, one finally opened up. The family piled out and got in line, once it was their turn, they stated how many seats they needed and they were led to a table. Harry proudly sporting his One Direction gear.

“People are going to think you're gay.” The oldest sister mentioned to him.

“I still don't get why you want to look like a girl.” His mother sneered. He wasn't sure if she was commenting on his long curls, or his outfit, but he figured that it didn't really matter either way.

“Maybe he is gay.” The second oldest sister teased with a smirk.

A young, kind waitress came to the table, asking everyone what they wanted to drink, and if they were ready to order food. Everyone made their requests as she scribbled them onto a notepad. She then took away their menus, as they were no longer needed. “Nice shirt.” She complimented, looking at Harry. “I love One Direction.” The young man blushed slightly. Another family was departing, and a girl, slightly younger than Harry, was with the group. As they walked by, she looked at Harry's t-shirt and gasped.

“Ohmygosh, One Direction.”

Their meals arrived, and as they stuffed their faces, Harry overheard two other girls talking.

“See, Lizzy? I told you there are guys out there who like One Direction.”

“Sorry for doubting you.” The other girl said sarcastically, then her tone softened. “He's actually really cute, too.”

There was no denying that they were talking about Harry, and he wondered if his red cheeks would start to burn soon. He excused himself from the table to find the restroom. Once he'd found what he was looking for, he put himself in the relatively short line. He was tapped on the shoulder, so he spun around to see who was responsible. Yet another girl whom he didn't recognize stood there with a wide smile. A little unsure on how to react, Harry waved awkwardly and offered a quiet “hi.”

“I think it's so awesome that you're a guy who's a Directioner who isn't afraid to show it. I'm a Directioner too, by the way.” She babbled. “Who's your favorite? I like Niall, the Irish one, he's super cute.”

“Uh,” Harry struggled to find the right words. He wasn't used to holding a conversation with people, much less strangers. But another girl joined into their discussion before he could say anything.

“Nuh-uh, Zayn's the best looking one, and he's got the best voice too.”

“Hey, lady, I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to this fine gentlemen.” The first girl gestured towards Harry.

“Liam, enough said.” A third voice pitched in. It looked like the three young woman were about to get into a cat fight. Harry cleared his throat, hoping to get their attention and prevent an all-out brawl in the restaurant.

“M-my favorite is Louis.” He finally said, just above a whisper. He jumped a little when the three girls all squealed with delight, and some other people stared at the spectacle.

“Oh yeah, how could we forget Tomlinson and those gorgeous blue eyes of his?”

“I wonder if he's still single...”

“I wholeheartedly agree with you, uh, sorry I never got your name.”

“Harry.” He said shyly. As uncomfortable as he was at first, he would find himself in a real conversation with the girls. Anything and everything involving One Direction. The girls also complimented his own British accent that he managed to maintain despite growing up in America with an American family. He'd nearly forgotten his original mission to reach the bathroom. The group eventually dispersed, but not before two of the girls handed Harry their phone numbers.

“Call me sometime.” They both suggested at once.

He shook his head a little while smiling. He had no immediate plans to maintain contact with either of them, but he did acknowledge the fact that he was just flirted with by multiple women. Maybe they could at least be friends? He returned to his family's table, they halted whatever it was they were talking about as he took his seat.

“There you are.” The father said. “We thought maybe you'd gotten lost, or that you fell in.” He joked.

“Mm.” Harry simply shrugged, unwilling to enlighten them on what had transpired during his journey to the toilet. They would probably just make fun of him anyway. He finished his meal in silence while the others talked. The nice waitress would stop by frequently, making sure to top off their beverages, checking in if they needed anything else, if they wanted dessert or any to-go boxes. She and Harry made regular eye contact, exchanging a smile to one another.

“The service here tonight is horrible.” His mother muttered suddenly.

“I know.” His father added. “We should complain.”

 _Oh, please, don't you do that enough already?_ Harry rolled his eyes, the action concealed behind his water glass. The waitress returned to top off Harry's cup of water, which was when his parents decided to make their move. “We'd like to speak to the manager.”

“Okay, sure thing.” Shortly after she departed, an older woman arrived at the table, she was dressed differently from the waitstaff. “Hi, I'm the manager here tonight. Did you folks have a question, or a concern of any kind?”

“The service tonight was horrendous.” His father huffed.

“And we waited forever to get a table.” His mother whined.

Harry let his jaw hang open slightly as he observed the scene before him. His parents were known, at least to him, to complain at restaurants in hope's of getting their bill thrown away. It didn't matter what the quality of service or food was, good or bad, nor did it matter if they were blatantly lying about it, they would complain until the staff gave in and picked up their tab. They weren't always successful, but even still, it never swayed them from trying again. The two sisters said nothing as they either stared at their phones or tried to keep the oldest's three children occupied until they got to the parking lot. The manager apologized to the family and, as the parents anticipated, all of their meals were free.

 _You could have said something._ He thought to himself, but knew very well that he would suffer for it, at least his ears and heart would.

“I'm not gonna leave a tip.” The father grumbled.

“I know I wouldn't.” Mother added.

Sighing, Harry looked around before slowly pulling out his wallet from his pocket. Inching his finger along the velcro, making as little noise as possible. He pulled out a $5 dollar bill and sat it under his thigh on the chair before folding his wallet back up and putting it back in his jeans. He took the piece of currency and folded it neatly, twiddling with it anxiously underneath the table. Everyone started to get up and stretch, once Harry was certain that no one was looking, he quickly but carefully slipped the folded $5 underneath his plate. Confident that the waitress would discover it when she cleaned off the table. Harry rose from his chair and followed the rest of his family out. Harry was accustomed to trying to limit the destruction his family would always leave whenever they were out in public. He despised the way they always treated employees at establishments. He figured that it was within their own right act like arseholes if they wanted to, but Harry was determined to not be associated with their behavior by any means. In fact, he made it his goal to make sure that whoever had the misfortune of serving his family, he would do his best to ensure that they didn't wind up having a bad day strictly because of this miserable bunch of people. Or, at the very least, he wanted people to know that he wasn't like them.

The waitress returned to the table to clean up the mess of dirty dishes, cups, utensils, and soiled napkins. Her manager had informed her of the complaining family, and while she had assured her supervisor that she did her duties exceptionally well, she still received a small lecture on being timely and courteous, among other things. As she started stacking cups and plates, she wasn't surprised to see no tip left on the table. It was a slight blow to her, she really needed the money to pay for her tuition, but if she were to encounter any more families like this one during her employment, it could be quite a while. After she grabbed the last plate, a familiar shade of green caught her eye. She picked up the $5 dollar bill and examined it for a second, confused as to why it was hidden underneath the plate that belonged to that shy curly-haired boy that likes One Direction...

No words needed to be spoken as realization silently sank in. The edges of her lips threatening to rise upward as she pocketed her reward and finished the task at hand.

As usual, once they had returned home, Harry headed directly to his room. His mother started to protest this. “Don't you want to spend some time with your family?”

“I just did.” He mumbled weakly before going up the steps, not wanting to hang around for his mother to assault him with manipulative words. He hurried to his room where he would listen to his album and practice his singing, then browse the internet before retiring to bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By now you may have noticed how almost none of the original characters, including Harry's adoptive family, have names. I will confirm that this was intentional.
> 
> Also, I don't know if Harry has actually listened to any of those artists besides Nickelback, but remember, this is an AU.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me this far! Any typos or errors you spot belong to me... you can't have them, they're mine!

He began to notice how his parents were like his personal alarm clock all of the sudden. He often awoke at 7 AM, which was earlier than usual for him, to the dulcet sounds of one or both parents belly-aching about something downstairs. It would only quiet down once his mother left for work, his father wouldn't leave for another 30 minutes. As long as only one of them was present, they didn't have much reason to rattle the house with their yelling, considering that they had no present audience. This new trend of theirs would keep up for quite some time. Finally, Harry started to try and go to bed earlier to compensate for the sleep he would lose otherwise.

Harry simply stared into space as the single pringle sister gave him an earful over an empty water trough. It didn't matter that he had filled it yesterday, or that there was probably a leak somewhere that he didn't have the ability to fix, it was still his fault, he was solely to blame, as was typical. It was like she had short term memory loss, because later on she would ask if he wanted to accompany her into town. This time, he would decline. She would act confused and wonder why he would turn down her offer, as if she truly didn't know, and maybe she didn't, but it didn't really matter. He didn't feel like being around her anymore today, and that was good enough reason for him to stay home.

Because now, he had ways to occupy his time and push his loneliness to the back of his mind.

Harry was positive that he would never grow tired of listening to these same songs, no matter how many times he jammed and sang to them. There was something that always drew him to their music, the way it never failed to lift his spirits, the way it made him feel relaxed and at ease, like he could finally let his guard down. He first wondered if it simply had anything to do with Louis Tomlinson, but ultimately decided that there was more to it than just that good looking blue eyed boy... In a way, their music just sang to him, there was something that he still wasn't sure exactly what it was. Whatever it was though, he supposed that it wasn't necessarily important, as long as it made him happy and hurt no one, the fact that he enjoyed it and it made him feel good was all that mattered.

While browsing through the One Direction website, he saw that they were on tour and were coming to America later this year. How he'd missed that before, he didn't know. He quickly went to look up tour dates to see if they would be coming to his area. Indeed, they would arrive in Seattle in December... the same month as Louis' birthday. Tickets would be on sale for pre-order soon. He inhaled sharply as he proceeded to study prices. He breathing paused briefly when he saw that he could even purchase a backstage pass to meet the band after the show, but it definitely was not cheap. Harry counted all of the money he'd managed to save up for a rainy day. A good chunk of it that he'd once had was gone in place of all the merchandise he owned. He calculated that if he bought one of the shoddy nosebleed seats, he could afford a backstage pass along with it, however, it would effectively empty his wallet entirely. He bit his lip, his parents would definitely be displeased if he spent such a large amount of money all at once, they would criticize him for being irresponsible, or possibly forbid him from going to the show even if he'd already paid. He sighed and scratched his head. He could always try and win tickets off of a radio contest if one were to take place, but that sounded way too risky. Even though One Direction was relatively new to the music industry, they were becoming increasingly popular, and their concerts were already selling out within a couple hours of tickets going on sale, and if Harry didn't buy a ticket while he had the chance, what would he do if he attempted to win them in a contest only for him to win nothing? He took a deep breath and made up his mind, he would buy a nosebleed ticket and a backstage pass, not worry at all about money. While he didn't necessarily disagree that it was rather irresponsible to blow the remainder of his money like he was planning to, but he decided that this was important to him, it meant a lot to him. He was going to watch his favorite band perform and meet his idols, and he would not let anything, or anyone stop him. After all, he's done so much for other people for so long, it's about time that he did something for himself.

* * *

Harry glanced anxiously at his watch every five seconds. It was currently 11:57 PM. Tickets for the One Direction show in Seattle were about to go on sale, and he was worried. He's heard stories of the website crashing due to high volumes of traffic. He was afraid that he might wind up resorting to a radio contest if he didn't manage to snag a ticket. Once the numbers on his wrist changed to 12:00, he slammed his finger on the mouse button and entered his information, rapidly tapping away at the keyboard. He did a quick check-over, making sure he had everything right, and that he'd highlighted the correct things that he intended to purchase. He held his breath and shut his eyes before tapping the mouse button, _Oh, please, God..._

The green box on the computer screen was the indication he needed that his purchase successfully went through. He sighed and collapsed into the chair. He smiled to himself as he rubbed his face. He didn't care that he was going to sit up in the nosebleeds, he had a backstage pass to go along with it, he was going to see his favorite band perform live, and he was going to meet them in person. Even though the concert was months away still, he would eagerly count down the days.

* * *

Harry wiped his forehead and attempted to massage his sore back. Lugging around large bales of hay was starting to do a number on him, and it concerned him. He was still too young to be suffering back pain. Sitting on a chair had become less comfortable unless there was a cushion to lean against, even lying in bed wasn't as easy of a task. He eventually decided to try and mention it to his parents, only to be accused of making up excuses to get out of doing chores. He would take warm baths, as they were his only option to try and alleviate his aching body. He didn't really own much in the form of medicine, much less pain medication, though his parents did, but he wasn't motivated enough to ask if he could borrow some. His workload was growing too, his mother was going to farm auctions every weekend and bringing home more animals to the already crowded farm, her seemingly compulsive behavior had even Harry's father and sisters a little on edge. And if they ever tried to point it out to her, she would angrily snap at them.

“You just don't want me to have anything nice!” She yelled.

“I do, but don't you think we have enough animals to take care of already?” The father tried to reason with her, only to be called an “asshole” and be told that his wife regrets ever marrying him, and then a familiar thick silence would fill the room. Harry sometimes wondered how many couples in the world could casually sit in recliner chairs and watch TV while exclaiming every negative word they can think of and firing them at each other. If he ever found himself in the entertainment room while it was currently a war zone, he would shrink into the couch, trying to keep as low of profile as he possibly could, afraid that the slightest wrong move would direct his parents' attention onto him. Thankfully, that didn't happen very often. Once his parents were locked into a fierce battle, they were like two prehistoric carnivores that were fighting to the death for dominance or territory, hardly anything could end their verbal skirmishes prematurely, and if anyone were to directly disrupt them, the two of them would then join forces and defeat the third party together. There was one exception, if the phone or doorbell were to ring, they could instantly transform from red-faced, death glared to cheery and upbeat. His parents had nasty mouths that they used heavily, but if someone from the outside world were to interact with them in some way, they could be extremely charismatic, which, quite frankly, disgusted Harry. He hated the way his family always put on fake acts in order to not draw unwanted attention. He could tell that most people (except restaurant workers) viewed his family as kind, sweet, charming people, but that was only because of the way they presented themselves whenever they were in the public's eye, nobody knew what really goes on behind closed doors, or that “happy”, “loving”, and “caring” couldn't even come close to describing this family. Perhaps the only people outside of the family that did know were relatives and former friends, all of whom decided at some point in time that they longer wanted anything to do with this family, and honestly, Harry couldn't blame them for making such decisions. This group of people who actually call themselves a family were toxic to say the least, Harry seriously doubted that this family genuinely loved one another, not with how they can't ever go a day without arguing loudly, and if Harry wasn't hiding in the safety of his bedroom, he was prone to be targeted by their demeaning tongues as well. Happiness, that was real and not fake, didn't seem to exist within the household, his parents, and siblings if they were visiting, always seemed to have at least three things that they hated about their day, or their lives, compared to one, though generally zero, good, positive things. Call Harry a hypocrite for complaining about his adoptive family, but he at least had one thing to consider the highlight of his day. It didn't matter how shitty of a day he had, how many times he would be yelled at, insulted, degraded, manipulated, or lied to, how lonely he would feel, desperately longing for healthy human contact, One Direction was always his go-to cure for whatever ailed his mind or his heart, it was almost like his escape drug from the cruel life he was stuck with, it was the one thing that seemed to even help him maintain his will to live. _Ah, 'One Thing', what an awesome song..._ Harry had never actually attempted suicide, but he had fantasized it many times, wondering if all of the lingering pain and heartache would finally go away forever, what it would feel like to experience the comfort of endless peace. As tempted as he often was by his family's antics, he would never actually try. He wasn't sure if it was his own cowardice, his more irrational fear of making his family upset, despite the fact that he would be, you know, dead, or if there was something else that always managed to tug him back far enough to avoid crossing that line.

The reason Harry found himself down in the entertainment room with his parents in the first place was out of pure obligation, his mother was guilt-tripping him constantly for always hiding away in his room and not spending much time with his parents. He'd sat there for a full hour, paying attention to the TV was a challenge when the room was filled with raised voices and screams, neither of his parents even acknowledged his presence the whole time he'd been sitting there. Deciding that he was effectively wasting his time, he got up and silently vacated the room. Once he was gone, he could hear his mother start to complain quietly to his father about how much it upsets her that their adopted son never wants to spend time with them, his father would offer a sympathetic “I know, I know.”. As far as Harry could tell, it never seemed to occur to them that their unpleasant demeanors had anything to do with the fact that he liked to avoid them whenever possible. And with the way they were now speaking with each other, no one would have been able to guess that they were practically at each others' throats less than ten seconds ago. The air was still as suffocating as if a horse was lying over your chest, Harry didn't want to hang around any longer anyway, lest either of his parents decide to blow up and have another go at each other, or worse yet, him.

One Direction would always be there to bring Harry out of whatever funk he was in, and offer a comforting hand, at least an imaginary one. Daydreaming was a very common way for Harry to pass time. He would imagine that his favorite band were his brothers, they would talk, and laugh, and play, and sing, and just about every thing he wished he'd gotten to do as a child, or wished that he could experience now. He didn't have much to speak of in regards to a childhood, much like today, it was spent almost 24/7 on the farm, only leaving for doctor's appointments, or the occasional night where the family went out for dinner. He hardly knew what it was like to socialize with people his age, or play any of the numerous games that kids play. It's hard to do any of that when you're the only participant, not to mention with a family that was never interested in playing with you.

He would also imagine that his 'brothers' would encourage him whenever he was afraid, they would hug him, playfully ruffle his curls, and even tuck him into bed. A smile would always find it's way onto Harry's face, sometimes he would fantasize his imaginary brothers while in the presence of others, and people would inquire on his reason for smiling. He wouldn't dare elaborate, but his family would only assume that he's simply happy for one reason or another, they weren't nosy enough to interrogate for long, and he was thankful for that.

Sometimes, he thought about what it would be like if it was beyond fantasy. The odds of it ever being a reality had to be astronomical at best. Harry could hardly call himself an average Joe, he was a nobody that even other nobodies didn't know about. Being isolated most of his life thanks to his parents had ensured that. A lot of other fans probably had similar thoughts, imagining that their favorite band, their beloved boys were a real, physical part of their lives. In Harry's defense, he theoretically had every right to wish for a life better than the one he's got, but maybe dreaming about being a part of a world-famous boyband was stretching it a bit. He had heard the phrase before “dream big”, but compared to what his life is like currently, he'd settle for a normal life, and to be surrounded by loving, caring, encouraging people.

Which just happened to be the kind of people that the boys from One Direction were as far as Harry was concerned.

* * *

Harry came into the house after finishing the evening chores, he was eager to reach his safe One Direction haven, before he could get far up the steps, his father came to him

“Your mother would really appreciate it you could walk her dog for her.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “Why can't she walk her own dog?”

“She's had a long and stressful day at work and she's really tired.”

“I just busted my back, which still hurts, by the way, for the past two and a half hours while taking care of a bunch of animals that don't even belong to me.” Harry protested, it was a rare thing for him to do these days, but for some reason, he was feeling emotionally strong right now. “That's not even counting the four hours I spent this morning. Why do you guys keep so many animals, anyway? You don't do anything with them, and you guys complain about them constantly.”

“We pay you.”

“Hardly enough worth mentioning.”

“Just do this for your mother, please? She does so much for you.”

 _Oh, great, more guilt-tripping._ “Fine.” Harry went into the entertainment room where his mother sat in one of the recliners, glued to the TV, barely acknowledging her adopted son, who collected her antsy pet and brought it outside on a leash. He returned 15 minutes later and handed her the leash.

“That wasn't very long.” She commented rudely as she accepting the leash, never taking her gaze away from the TV. Her tone clearly hinting her disappointment, Harry ignored it and went upstairs, not interested in waiting around to be thanked, which he never was. He pondered for a minute, it was almost like his mother was trying to ignore him. But why? Was she trying to retaliate because she felt like Harry ignored her? Or was she no longer able to hide the fact that she doesn't really care about her adopted child all that much? (Granted, he is no longer a child) She's already made it clear how much she hates her husband, as well as her own life. Anything could be possible, not that Harry felt it to be of much importance right now.

When he laid down for bed, he winced a little. He'd gotten used to his back pain enough to ignore it mostly, but it still made itself known from time to time. He shifted around until the soreness was minimal and he could get semi comfortable. He sighed once he was able to relax his head on his pillow and pull the covers up to his chin, pretending that Louis Tomlinson was at his bedside, tucking him into bed and stroking his chocolate curls, bidding the boy a soft “goodnight, Harry” before gently planting a quick peck on his forehead. Harry would fall asleep with a wide grin on his face.

To some degree, he did kind of feel guilty about the way he'd grown to reject his family. They had been kind enough to bring him into their lives after he'd lost his own family, but he doesn't quite know what changed from that point on. They still cared enough to not let him starve or sleep out in the cold or wet, and yet they could be so cruel. If something was going wrong, he was often blamed, whether he had anything to do with it or not. These people were clearly not happy with their lives, and so they apparently decided to take it out on their youngest. While his memory of his older brothers who ran away is somewhat vague, he wondered if there was a bigger reason on why they both fled unannounced. He does recall that they were no angels, but he was beginning to assume that the way his parents treated them played a much bigger role in their unexpected departure. Again, Harry had food, water, clothing, a roof over his head, and a warm, dry place to sleep. His family did do a lot for him when it came to material needs, but other factors such as emotional support was pretty much nonexistent, but not totally so. Once in a while, Harry would hear relatively positive words come out of their mouths in the form of support, but he never really liked hearing it from them, it never felt real, it always felt fake and deceptive. And he definitely didn't like any kind of physical touch, at least not from them, especially not from his father, not after those three separate bathroom incidents. He still tried to remind himself that his life isn't that bad, lots of other people have it way worse than he does. Almost ironically, it seemed that whenever he tried using this sort of rationalization, some family member and their loud mouth would also remind him that his life pretty much sucks.

“Love is patient, love is kind.” He had read that phrase somewhere before, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. It made him laugh a little, because people in this family were anything but patient or kind, or honestly loving for that matter. And it's not like they ever hit him or molested him, but pain and suffering was still there, just in a different way. To be truthful, he often times wished that they would strike him, or do just about anything that would leave visible proof. They could hurl all of the words at him as they pleased, because it's just words, it's not going to physically damage him in any way, it's not going to make anyone suspicious and possibly land the family in hot water. Perhaps the biggest reason why they never laid a harmful finger on his was because they relied on him so much to be their personal farmhand. They wouldn't want to risk losing that perk by leaving him physically incapacitated, and possibly have to take him to the hospital and explain to the doctors and nurses how he'd gotten those injuries. At least most physical wounds heal at some point in time, but when the condition is a broken heart, or a shattered mind, the healing process could be never ending.

Especially when you contracted said problems on a daily basis due to the people you were exposed to all of the time.

“FUCK!” Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as an ear-splitting shriek filled the house one evening. _Oh, God, what did I do this time?_ He began to panic. _I filled all of the water troughs, right? Yeah, I think I did. Wait, I don't remember if I did the one down the hill._ It baffled Harry how his mother could scream like a banshee and never get a sore throat. She started to rant and rave, and the anxious young man couldn't help but listen in, fearing that he was the cause for her outburst.

“I hate my life! God damn it, why doesn't anything ever go right?!” Harry almost, _almost_ sighed with relief. He was so familiar with the ways his mother yelled that he could already tell that he was in fact not the subject of the “conversation” downstairs, whatever the hell it was. He promptly stuffed his earphones into his ears and proceeded to drown out that God-awful noise with the help of his heroes.

“ _I... I wanna save ya, wanna save your heart tonight...”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little known fact: One Direction is an effective anti-depressant.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A suicidal moment looms ahead, closer to the end.

Harry mounted the portable mp3 player to the handlebars of his bicycle that his parents had surprised him with, and while Harry was grateful, he was also wary. He had learned long ago that strings were always attached somehow. Random gifts were the most common suspects. His birthday was months ago, and Christmas was still a ways out there. He had been told that the device was a bonus for working so hard, yet he remained skeptical. He did enjoy riding his bike even though he was only allowed to ride on the driveway and not the actual road. Now that he had his boys with him, it made the ride that much more enjoyable. During his fourth lap going back and forth, he stopped and stared at the blacktop. It was the middle of Tuesday, his parents were both gone to work. He could ride to the end of the street and back and they would never know... Embracing his newfound courage, he propelled the bike forward and onto the pavement. The smooth, flat terrain was a nice break from the bumpy gravel. He smiled as he pounded on the pedals, effortlessly gaining speed he never could achieve on the rough driveway as he cruised down the road, his beloved tunes blasting from the handlebars. He reached the end of the street and made a u-turn, heading back to the driveway. He could hear a car approaching from behind, the automobile pulled up next to him, the windows were down, the occupants appeared to take notice of the music he was listening to, and the stickers on his helmet, they whooped excitedly before zooming off ahead of him. Harry continued to smile as the wind hit his face, he rose above the saddle to prepare his bum for the approaching gravel driveway. He felt pretty good with himself right now, he'd just had a new experience, and no one was around to tell him “no”. Realizing he was now hungry, he rode back to the house and planned to treat himself to whatever he could scrounge up. Maybe he would fire up the stove and boil some pasta, after all, his parents weren't there to tell him that he couldn't, so...

Harry was approached one day by his father, who proceeded to tell him, almost persuade him, that he needs to increase his efforts in order to please his mother.

“I already do a lot for her, and everyone else. What more am I expected to do? Maybe I want to start living my own life for a change. You guys all get to work normal jobs and have a life outside of this place, shouldn't I get a turn?”

“Your mother and I do so much for you,” _Not that again._ “I really think you should consider this, just keep taking care of the animals, don't worry about not having a job, we'll still pay you so you can earn some money. Stay at home, and just do everything you can to make your mother happy.”

“I'm not responsible for other peoples' happiness. What about my own happiness? I'm 18 years old, I'm an adult, I'd like some independence for a change. I want to have a real job, maybe go to college, or pursue my singing dream. Doesn't any of this matter to you guys?”

“You may be an adult, but you're still our son, and we care about you. We treat you well, we're not abusing you or anything.”

Harry couldn't tell right away if his father was intending to sound either caring or degrading, it certainly did feel like the latter. He also noticed how his father acted like he hadn't heard his son's entire question. Desperate for advice, he actually went to both of his sisters to get their input. The second oldest actually encouraged him to gain the independence he rightfully deserves, while the oldest sided with their parents, calling Harry a “pissy ungrateful brat”, he tried to remind her that she herself had stormed out of their parents' house when she was 19 and never came back, at least not for a while. The discussion would come up a couple more times, stances never changing except for the second oldest sister's, she couldn't seem to make up her mind on who's side she was going to be on, no matter how confidently she voiced her opinion each and every time. Naturally, Harry would only grow to distrust her once more after thinking that he'd finally found an ally, taking every positive thing she ever had to say about him with a grain of salt.

The farm's population continued to rise, even in spite of a high morality rate, which was most often blamed on poor Harry. As much as he now despised animals, he never once blamed them. It wasn't their fault, they didn't ask to come here to die. His mother always pulled out the charisma card at auctions. With an almost sickly sweet attitude, she blabbed about how much she loves animals and taking care of them, effectively leaving out the fact that she doesn't take care of them, her adopted son does. Later, she would then complain about how much money she's spending every week on hay and feed and how much work there always was, even though she did very little of it. The arguments between his parents got more frequent, but never violent, at least not physically. Money and animals were the favored subjects.

Harry never would have realized that his father had become addicted to pornography until one day where the man was on the family computer and the speakers were turned up full blast, unbeknownst to his father. Another day, his father suddenly unloaded on him, insisting that it was his son's fault that the farm was overcrowded because he never tried to stop his mother from bringing home more livestock every week. Harry didn't understand what the older man was trying to get at, and he didn't feel like carrying on with the already ludicrous, not to mention one-sided, argument.

You would almost think that both of his parents were alcoholics, but they weren't. In fact, they never drank, nor did they keep any alcohol in the house. It was also kind of scary, to think that this was how they normally behaved while _sober._

Both of his sisters had become compulsive spenders, barely living paycheck to paycheck as a constant stream of packages came to their homes nearly every day. The two of them frequently came to their parents for money to help with their bills. They would always oblige, but would also threaten to cut them off until they got their budgets under control. Neither of the two scenarios ever occurred. The oldest sister also dumped her three children on their parents frequently so that she could go out and have fun, despite her already small bank account. She relied on her parents because she always struggled to find a babysitter, as once they had seen how “well-behaved” all of her kids were, they would take off in the blink of an eye, never to be seen again. The second oldest sister laid in bed most of the day when she was home, she had been rather fit and thin when she was growing up, but she seemingly let herself go. She didn't exercise enough for the type of diet she ate, and she became noticeably heavier, effectively leaving Harry as the only adult in the immediate family with a less than prominent waistline.

Harry started to have strange nightmares about his family. Sometimes they would involve them threatening him in some way if he were to ever tell anyone about the way they treated him, or the animals. They might threaten to kill him, or they would lock him in a cage inside a closet, or they would tie him up and have their merry way with his body. He wondered if these were all just his own irrational fantasies making their way into his dreams. He wasn't a huge believer in the idea that dreams had any meaning, or predicted the future. Nonetheless, it honestly terrified him. While his family had made no obvious signs that they were about to do any of the things that they did to him in his dreams, he still found himself being much more aware of his surroundings at all times.

 _What a great home I've grown up in._ Because what doesn't scream “safe, loving home” more than frequently having nightmares about your family doing unmentionable things to you? Or getting emotionally put down non-stop, made to feel like you're worthless, always falling short of being good enough? Or the feeling of love never being present? This entire family was only crumbing as time passed, it was like it could implode any day now.

 _I seriously need to get away from here._ The question remained, where would he go? What would he do? He didn't know any of his family's relatives well enough, he figured that none of them would want anything to do with him anyway, they probably associated him with his family in a way that wasn't true. He had no friends to speak of either. As nice as it was to have a roof over his head, and (usually) know when his next meal was going to be, being homeless was starting to sound better than continuing to live with this family any longer. He could probably get a real job somewhere too, make enough to live by, and maybe even get his own flat. He would then be able to pursue other goals, perhaps college, or his dream of being a singer.

The colder months were approaching though, the worst time of the year to be living out on the streets. Harry had also debated on seeking help from a domestic violence organization, but remembering what had happened the last time he'd tried to bring outside attention to his family's secluded farm, he didn't feel strong enough to have a repeat of that, especially since his family's behavior had only gotten worse since, and he still has nightmares that involve him trying to advocate for himself or the neglected farm animals in some way, only for his family to do something bad to him as a result.

With winter coming up, the day of the One Direction concert was nearing as well. Not a soul even knew yet that Harry had a ticket and was planning to go. He tried to think about how he would do this. He could tell his family, at least one person, just so they wouldn't get mad about him leaving without permission, and while he technically knew that it was polite to let people know where you were going if you were going somewhere, he hated sharing any kind of information with his family, no matter how big or small, He was also afraid of being told that he wouldn't be allowed to go if he did tell them, they wouldn't care that he'd already purchased a ticket and backstage pass and cannot get his money back. Eventually, he decided that he would slip out of the house unannounced. He knew that it was a long shot, but he felt that he stood the best chance by being covert, as dishonest as it might seem. It was little funny how he was concerned about being polite, even in the face of his rude, obnoxious family. But he did embrace that he wasn't a totally apathetic person, because it was yet another thing that separated him from them.

Harry started to Google information about dysfunctional families, which lead him to other trails like emotional abuse, and narcissistic personality disorder. These three things alone described his family with almost pin-point accuracy based on his research. Though it only confirmed his own suspicions which he'd had for quite a while already, but it gave him some much needed closure to know that this wasn't something that he'd been imagining all his life, but rather this is something that has been observed for a long time now by other people, there's been studies done by psychological health specialists, among numerous other people of various professions. Children of narcissists either grew to become like their parents, or they would effectively become the black sheep of the family, refusing to conform and often being viewed as a rebel. Helicopter parenting was common among dysfunctional families, the parents also tended to be bad housekeepers, lacked empathy, had short tempers, and fail to see their growing children as adults. To others within the family, they could be unnaturally charming, presenting a very different image to strangers from what they were really like. Other mental issues could be present, including but not limited to depression, inability to let things go, such as material possessions, people, or animals. Arguments would be very common, positive interactions of any sort would practically be unheard of.

The more information he looked up, the more he felt as if the researchers had been stalking him and his family this whole time. Some things didn't match his family, such as the physical violence or alcoholism, while other things did like the constant feeling of walking on eggshells and the mental put-downs just to name a couple.

He sometimes wondered why they adopted him in the first place. Why this American family would travel all the way across the Atlantic just for him? He did know that they had been seeking to adopt an English baby, there weren't any other specific details though. Perhaps he just happened to be the lucky soul out of the other dozen or so children at the orphanage, of course, he would never wish his life upon anyone else. He didn't blame being adopted for his not so glamorous situation, he understood that plenty of kids were adopted into good homes, while on the other hand, some children were born into bad ones. He had no control over the fact that he'd lost his birth family, his father, mother, and sister, or that he'd wound up with a family that was like the literal result of mixing water and oil. Surely when they first took him in, they had nothing but good intentions, but why did that all change? Certainly at some point in time they were genuinely doing a good thing, yet the way they are now just doesn't add up. Was it him? Did he somehow cause this family to fall apart? Initially, he knew it was wrong to blame himself in such a way, but his curiosity was always a strong trait of his. But if so, what did he do exactly? How could he fix it, or at least minimize the damage? But if he wasn't the cause, what, or who, was? Was it something that someone else did? But that was an even harder question to figure out the answer to. This family did so many negative things to each other, it was hardly worth trying to dwell over the question. Maybe it was just some mental thing that ran in the family. His second-oldest sister did confess to him before that the way their mother was treating Harry now was similar to how she'd treated her daughter, while always playing favorites to the oldest. Meanwhile, his oldest sister would point out that their father always clearly favored the second oldest. _Wonder where that puts me?_ Harry thought. Despite how divided the four of them were in general, they were more than capable of coming together and forming a four-man army to defeat a common threat, which he always felt was none other than him. On other occasions, they would turn against each other, leaving Harry safely out of their crossfire. He still disliked hearing and seeing them fight, it always reminded him of the way they like to behave towards him, and it made him stressed and anxious just the same. He did have to admit that he appreciated the times where he wasn't the sole target, though he also acquired guilt for feeling that way too.

 _Thank God I'm not blood-related to these people._ The idea of him ever carrying on their toxic traditions frightened him. He did not want to be like them, but he was doing a pretty decent job so far. Unlike them, he was very patient, slow to anger, not that he ever showed anger to begin with, because that only got him reprimanded. He wasn't hesitant to cry as long as he was alone. He never liked crying in front of them, they would actually drop their bad attitudes on the spot and try to be consoling, but he hated when they did that. It felt so fake, like they were lying right to his face and they knew it as much as he did. On top of that, they would actually resume whatever verbal warfare they had been intertwined with, leaving Harry feeling baffled, or sometimes annoyed. The way they could go from 60 to 0 to 60 again just like that was really something else, he'd already witnessed it plenty of times whenever the phone or doorbell rang.

The day of the concert was surely approaching, Harry was beginning to have doubts about his original plan to not tell anybody where he was going. He really started to wonder if maybe he should take a chance just to be courteous. He avoided talking to his family unless absolutely necessary, but whenever he did, he would wait for as long as it took for them to at least be in a semi good mood. The opportunity never came, however. Harry could only get as far as to open his mouth, but before he could emit any kind of sound, much louder voices would always drown him out. Apparently his family had to decided that they wanted to have an all-out pick-on-Harry day, bombarding him with an overwhelming onslaught of harsh words, making fun of his “girly” appearance, laughing at his expense if he slipped in the mud, soiling all of his clothes, and then yelling at him for dropping his chores to go change into clean clothes. It was that time of year again where the place turned into a swamp, his mother always blamed it on the local climate, but they seemed to be the only farm in the entire state that had this sort of issue, and she certainly wasn't willing to blame it on the ridiculously high population of livestock. Harry had also done some research on animal hoarding, a condition that is defined not by the amount of animals or pets one owns, but by their ability (or inability) to care for them. Two different examples included a woman in Canada who had over 100 cats, and a woman in Chicago who had only 6 cats. The one with 100 cats was not classified as an animal hoarder by definition, because she was able to and did provide adequate care for each and every animal. Yet the woman with only 6 cats was labeled an animal hoarder, because she didn't care for them properly, and they also lived in deplorable conditions. This did not sit well with his mother, who perceived it as a personal attack, and vehemently defended herself. Another trait in animal hoarders was their flat out refusal to believe that they are doing anything wrong, in spite of very obvious signs of the destruction they are causing to both the animals they owned and to their immediate family.

* * *

All Harry could hear were the sounds of his family yelling, they were corralling loose chickens around the farm, because _someone_ didn't latch the door to the chicken coop. His mother had been the last person in there to collect eggs. Originally, it was Harry's job, but she was never satisfied with the way he did it, because really, how complicated does picking up eggs have to be? Not enough as far as Harry figured. She eventually gave up on yelling at him about it any further and took it upon herself to get her own damn eggs. That was a first. It didn't matter though, somehow, it just had to be Harry's fault that the chickens were running free. He was blamed for letting them loose on purpose because he was tired of taking care of them. If he had to be honest, why did it matter if they lost a few chickens? They had hundreds more. He had similar feelings every time any of the other species had gotten loose. Catching loose livestock was never easy, none of them could hardly be considered domesticated. Horses would never let you get close to them, dogs never came when called, it was another emphasis on what shoddy farmers the family was. It also didn't help that they argued the entire time, their yelling was obviously scaring the animals, and when they would flee, it only added fuel to an already roaring fire. They almost never tried to think as to how they managed to break free yet again, or how they could make their task any easier, instead they would always fight about whose fault it was, which was always blamed on a certain curly-haired lad, whether there was or wasn't any positive indication that their accusations were even true.

Harry was both mentally and physically exhausted by the time it was finally over, but the day didn't end there. His oldest sister wanted his help at the grocery store, more specifically, for him to sit in the car with her three little monsters while she went inside so she wouldn't have to take them in with her. The whole excursion went by with only his sister and her children saying anything. When she pulled up to their parents' farm to drop him off, Harry, was still very worn out from earlier, he gradually rose from the seat to get out, stopping when he was asked a very random question.

“Are you a virgin?”

“Yeah, why?” He couldn't even be bothered to mull over why his older sibling would ask such a thing, he was just that tired.

“Just checking.” She said cautiously. He silently got out of her car, ignoring the “bye-bye uncle Harry” from one of the children and trudged to the house. Why on earth would his sister ask about his virginity? What did it matter to her? Unless she was trying to imply that he'd had sex with one of the horses or something, this seemed like it was more than just some sick joke. It's not like he hardly ever left the property, who else would he have slept with otherwise? He couldn't possibly ponder about it anymore, he just wanted to forget about this day, sit down and relax, and listen to some One Direction. He _really_ needed his boys to cheer him up right now.

His parents heard him come through the irritatingly loud, squeaky front door. It was a challenge all on it's own just to get inside because of the clutter that was piled in front of the door. After much struggling to squeeze inside, even with his skinny frame, he did eventually succeed. He made a beeline for the stairs when his mother called him into the entertainment room. As was typical, both of his parents were seated on their fat arses on their recliners, watching some crime drama on TV. Harry wondered if their TV-watching habits had anything to do with why they never hurt him physically. Did the shows they always watch give them some sort of reminder or conscious on what they could and could not easily get away with? They could say all the mean little words they wanted to him, as long as nobody else was around to witness it happening, they would never hold any suspicions. The wounds were still there, still fresh, still bleeding, and that's not even taking into account the brand new ones he got every day. He stood at the entryway of the room expectantly when his mother spoke.

“Mercy didn't have any water. And because you just so conveniently had to be gone earlier, I had to fill her water bucket.” She sneered loudly, seemingly oblivious to the fact that her adopted son had been helping her daughter manage her three grandchildren.

“Oh no, you actually had to take care of one of your own bloody dogs for a change. What ever will we do?” Harry realized too late that he had mumbled that audibly, consequently sending his mother on a rampage.

“I do so much for you! My feelings are hurt that you would even talk to me that way. I can't believe the amount of disrespect I have to put with from this family!”

 _Join the club._ Oh, sure, now Harry's voice decides to quit working.

“I've been nothing but a good mother to you kids. Why should I always have to keep making so many sacrifices when I'm never appreciated?!”

“Your mother does do a lot for you, Harry. You could at least return the favor once in a while.” His father added, much more calmly than the ranting woman a few feet away. “That's what families do, they help each other out.”

 _You people have a very twisted perception on how families work._ Harry wordlessly turned and vacated the room, his mother's verbal explosion never ceasing. Even upstairs he could still easily make out the conversation from below.

“Things are going to change around here. He _will_ start treating me with more respect. Where did I go wrong? I thought I raised a well-behaved, smart little boy. You even heard the way he spoke to me. So damn rude.” It certainly did not require a rocket scientist or a brain surgeon to determine who 'he' was.

“I know, I know.” His father said sympathetically. “You do do a lot for him, we both do. I just wish he would realize that and treat us more nicely.”

Are they serious? Are they really fucking serious? The way they treat him day in and day out, the amount of work and stress he deals with just to make them yell at him less, only for him to never be good enough and face relentless criticism. The utter lack of respect he gets from them, their constant, internal denial that their adopted son is a grown man and not a little slave boy. Harry felt like he'd lost his ability to stand for a moment, he collapsed onto his giant stuffed horse, covered his face with his hands and wept. He suddenly felt like he'd been hit by a train, he was a like a war-torn soldier just leaving the battlefield, like an exhausted hiker climbing a mountain that never ended. He wasn't quite sure what to do at this point other than let his emotions do their thing. He thought again about running away, but he also imagined that his family would search the ends of the earth for him, as if they were truly concerned about his well-being, which, in a way, was probably true, but for a very different reason. They needed their personal farmboy to be in good physical condition, or else, God forbid, they would have to take care of their own damn pets. He also thought about ending everything, just so that his family couldn't yell at him anymore, or degrade him, insult him, manipulate him, treat him like dirt. He actually scanned around his room, he had very little to hang any ropes or bed sheets off of, he had nothing sharp either. There was the second story window though, maybe if he tied one end of the bed sheets to the bed and the other around his neck, he could then take some rope and hogtie himself so that he wouldn't be able to save himself once he took that final plunge...

His gruesome thoughts came to a halt when his gaze landed on one of his many One Direction posters on his walls. He studied the happy faces of the four gorgeous boys as they posed above their band's logo. He instantly felt like he'd been hit by a second train, only this one consisted of pure guilt and shame. _What am I doing? What am I thinking?!_ Fresh tears poured down his already soaked cheeks, he swallowed thickly as he brushed away his curls that were sticking to his face. He now felt so bad for what exactly had been on his mind just a moment ago. His boys would never want him to think that way. They would want him to stay strong and keep fighting. They would never want him to give up. Killing himself would mean that his family would win, they would be victorious. He cannot allow that to happen, he cannot let his boys down, most importantly, he cannot let himself down, not after all that he's survived so far, he cannot quit now.

“But it's just so hard sometimes.” He whispered into his palms. He didn't jump when an arm wrapped around his shoulders, because he quickly assumed that he was imagining it.

“It will get better. Trust me.” A soothing voice said. It had a slightly higher pitch to it, higher than Harry's.

Harry dared to look to his left where a smiling Louis Tomlinson sat beside him, looking as beautiful as ever. Harry sat there for a while in silence, he wanted to savor this moment he was having with a person that he knew very well wasn't actually there. Feeling awkward and rude for not saying anything, Harry sniffled. “Do you really think so?” He asked, his voice somewhat croaked. The smile that Louis gave him, it filled him with such warmth he didn't think would ever be possible for him to experience, he noticed his shoulders that he hadn't realized were so tense relax slowly.

“I promise.”

Those bright blue eyes, and those... those lips, Harry wanted nothing more than to reach over and brush them with his fingertips, but he was afraid that he would cause the figment of his imagination to disappear if he tried, so he held back. The imaginary Louis brought up his other arm that wasn't on Harry's shoulders and pulled themselves together, embracing the younger boy in a hug, which Harry returned.

He didn't care how weird it looked that he was wrapping his arms around thin air, the comfort and safety he felt right then and there was something that his adoptive family could only dream of being able to provide to his broken soul.

Some words and phrases started to form in his head, he fed his urge to grab a pencil and notepad and began writing them out when the thought occurred to him. If he couldn't follow his dream of being a singer, he could at least write songs. Maybe someday they would be performed by a world famous musician. How cool would that be?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you needed a reminder, Harry's adoptive family sucks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concert day for Harry!

Soon enough, the concert was tomorrow, and still nobody else knew about it. Harry's second thoughts about keeping it a secret no longer bothered him. He now had to plan his trip. Seattle was more than 90 miles north of the farm, that would be quite a trek on a bicycle. He found out that there was a bus line in nearby downtown Olympia that went to Seattle, he'd accumulated enough wealth since the day he'd purchased his ticket that he could afford bus fare. He started filling up a backpack he'd been given to for one of his birthdays but never used. He'd bring a full set of clean clothes, just in case anything were to happen to the outfit he would be wearing. He would also bring his album so that he could ask the group to sign it. He was so excited! He was finally going to meet his heroes in person, he could only assume that they were as nice and funny as they appeared to be from the countless YouTube videos he's watched of them. He felt a little strange about the idea of openly defying his parents, he'd rarely ever crossed that line while he was growing up. As a matter of fact, he distinctively remembers how his parents always used to compliment him all the time about how what a well-mannered child he was.

_Funny how times change._

He wasn't going to worry about it though, he's dedicated too much much of his life already trying to please the unpleaseable. No matter what he did, his parents never seemed to be truly satisfied, temporarily at best. They could go on and on about how much they do for him or what great parents they are while simultaneously watching him lug bale after bale of hay, always on the move, going this way and that around the farm, making sure that their oh-so beloved pets didn't go hungry or thirsty, it was common for it to take him hours each day to complete the chores, his back was still rather stiff from all that heavy lifting. His workload was so immense now that he was regularly losing track of every horse, chicken, and dog that he had to toss food to. If he forgot something, he would get an earful, if he didn't do something correctly, he would get earful. He could practically carry his parents over his back through a desert so they wouldn't have to walk, and they would still criticize him for allowing them to get hot and sweaty. But he was not going to be swayed from his upcoming mission. He was going to go to that concert, he wasn't going to inform his parents and risk giving them the chance to stop him. He could only imagine how they would react upon finding out, but he would fret about that later.

He was using the bathroom before turning in for the night. Before he could reenter his bedroom, he was met by his father in the hallway on his way to his own room which was a little further down the hall-- his parents had stopped sharing a room years ago, a choice his mother had made, and she slept in her recliner downstairs in the entertainment room instead, where she often watched TV all night, and would complain the next morning about how little sleep she actually got the night before.

“Harry, your mother and I would really like to have a sit-down with you tomorrow night and just talk about some things.”

“What things exactly?” The boy asked suspiciously.

“She's really sad and thinks that you don't treat her well enough.”

“I could hear the yelling from up here, I didn't notice any sadness.”

His father sighed. “She does a lot for you, she just wishes that you would be nicer to her.”

“My back still hurts from what I currently do.”

“Just try to make her happy. She really does care about you, and so do I.” Harry tried not to roll his eyes. He was not looking forward to this 'sit-down' in the slightest. His family rarely took the time to have seated discussions, and when they did, nothing good ever came out of it, at least not for Harry, and that sounded exactly like how this one would turn out. Chances are high that it would involve them telling him yet again that he shouldn't worry about getting a real job, or going to college anytime soon, he should only concern himself with taking care of the farm, and of course, making his mother happy. And remembering the dangerous tone he heard his mother speak in after he had vacated the entertainment room earlier, this all just didn't sit well with him. The feeling of dread started to fill his entire being, it also occurred to him that he wouldn't even be at home for this scheduled 'talk', he would be at the One Direction concert in Seattle. His breaths became short and his chest tensed, he stood relatively still for a moment, he flinched when his father enveloped him in a side-hug.

“Love you, sweetie. Goodnight.” Harry stood there quietly until his father disappeared behind the door to his bedroom. He almost felt sick, both because of the anxiety attack he was trying to hold off, and the fact that his father touched him. He hated physical contact from anyone in his family, but he loathed it from his father the most. Even though he's never once been struck or beaten, it was still nothing short of uncomfortable.

He had it all planned out now, he would depart for the bus station sometime after both of his parents had left for work, he figured that he should give himself plenty of time to reach Seattle, because there would likely be a traffic jam on the interstate due to the concert. He did his morning chores and managed to cut his arm on a sharp piece of metal sticking out from one of the barns. He had pointed it out to his father before so that he could fix it, because Harry didn't really get to use any of the tools. Even though the older man had pledged to take care of it “one of these days”, one-of-these-days never seemed to arrive. A few hours, plus a sore backside and a wounded arm later, Harry went back to the house and rummaged through his parents' bathroom for first aid supplies, there was none to be found. Not too surprising. At least he could say that he was up to date on his immunizations (one thing his parents did right), so he wasn't concerned about contracting tetanus disease, but he still needed to do something about his cut so that it didn't become infected. He cleaned the wound to the best of his ability with warm water and soap, then took a clean, dry rag, and duct-taped it around his arm. He knew from popular American culture that an improvised wound dressing such as this would be called a “redneck band-aid”, but he didn't really care about how silly it looked, as long as it protected the wound on his arm. He planned to wear a sweater today anyway, so it would be covered up and out of sight.

He changed into fresh clothes, pulling one of his One Direction t-shirts over the top of his hoodie so that he could show off his Directioner pride. After making sure that he had everything, he equipped his backpack and helmet and went outside where his bike was leaning against a post on the front porch. He carried it across the front yard and to the driveway, then he mounted the vehicle and accelerated, the familiar sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires. The air was cool and crisp against his face, fortunately, his sweatshirt kept the cold at bay from his body. Horses watched lazily as he rode by, he was passing the trailer that his second-oldest sister lived in when he heard a voice, causing him to slam on the brakes and come to a grinding stop.

“Where are you going?” The older woman asked, dog leash in one hand. She presumably had called in sick to work, which would explain why she was at home right now.

“For a ride.” Harry answered, and it wasn't necessarily a lie.

“You're not running away, are you?” She inquired, eyeing his backpack.

“No.” He responded simply. “I was planning on coming back.” That, too, was not a lie.

“Well, don't be out before mom gets home, or she'll be so pissed. You know how she gets”

“Don't remind me.” He offered weak “bye, see you later” then continued onward, thankful that she didn't press for more details. Soon, he was approaching the roadway, this would be the longest ride he'd ever taken on pavement, as Olympia was 12 miles away, and the bus station was an additional 3. He pedaled the bike off of the rough gravel and onto the smooth surface of the road. He started up his music player so that he could listen to his favorite tunes during the ride. An automobile passed by, he could clearly hear his boys singing loudly from the cranked-up speakers. When the passenger noticed his t-shirt in the side-view mirror, they waved back towards him, Harry grinned and returned the gesture. He slowed when he approached the end of the street, making sure that there was no incoming traffic, he proceeded to the right, now on a more heavily traveled roadway. The street that his oldest sister lived on was to his left, running adjacent to another horse farm. Unlike the one his family had, the pastures were nice and green, horses frolicked and galloped, it was a pleasant sight. His oldest sister lived only one mile away from their parents, it was a house they had originally lived in for a while before most of their children were born. They maintained ownership of it and rented it out to people until they cleared the way for the eldest daughter to move in. As Harry rode on past his oldest sister's street, he could hear another car approaching. He didn't think much of it as the sound of the engine and rushing air became louder.

Before he knew it, he was in midair, looking up towards the sky. He landed with a grunt on his bum on the pavement. His music player had ceased playing, as it was now smashed to pieces where it had landed no more gracefully than Harry had. It didn't take long for him to realize that he'd been struck by the passing vehicle, which showed no signs of slowing down, but he could hear a woman from inside shout “Get off the road! Fucking cyclists!” as the large green SUV disappeared over a crest. Harry was in shock for a moment, not because he'd just been in a traffic accident, but because he knew that that SUV, and the angry voice that came from inside was all too familiar. It was his oldest sister.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he began to assess the damage. He was still in one piece with no serious injuries, his back still hurt as well as his rear end. The contents of his backpack had survived, including his album, his ticket and his backstage pass. Phew. His palms were scraped, but there was no blood. His bike appeared to be in one piece too, except for the rear tire, which was flat. The tire itself was intact, save for a long strip of the sidewall that was missing, but inner tube didn't survive. Harry's heart sank, he didn't have a spare inner tube, much less a way to fill it up. He wasn't far from home, so he could walk back, but then what? How would he get to his destination in time? Would he even make it? Feeling that he'd been effectively defeated, Harry collected his bike and began a very slow walk back to the farm. Other cars zoomed by without incident, but then one slowed down and pulled up next to him. He recognized the car from before, he'd encountered it when he took his bike out for the first time on the roadway earlier this year.

“Hey, are you OK?” The male driver asked, he was accompanied by three woman of varying ages.

Harry shook his head. “I was on my way to a concert, but I got hit and my bike has a flat tire.” He was prepared to ask if he could get a lift back home, he hoped the driver wouldn't mind, since he wasn't very far away anyway.

“Wait,” The woman in the front passenger seat spoke up. “Were you headed to the One Direction concert?” She eyeballed his t-shirt.

Harry nodded.

“We're all headed up there right now! We want to try and beat the traffic. Why do we give you a ride? We've got a seat open.” She pointed to the back, where two younger women sat. Harry's mouth hung open for a moment, unable to believe his luck.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, man,” The male driver piped in. “I'll pop the trunk so you can set your bike inside.”

Harry couldn't stop thanking them, it took them a while before they could convince him to shut up, which caused him to feel a little embarrassed. He'd heard plenty of stranger danger horror stories, thanks to the shows his parents always watched, but he wasn't willing to second guess getting inside a complete stranger's car if it meant getting to his destination. As it turns out, the two young woman in the backseat recognized Harry, having seen him at a restaurant some time ago, Harry still remembers interacting with a fair number of different females that evening. And the man and woman up front were indeed the same couple he'd encountered on his bike ride from before. They all shared a common love for One Direction, the man admitted that he was very skeptical at first, but his girlfriend and her friends had successfully managed to convince him, and he now willingly calls himself a Directioner. He was pleased to meet Harry, comforted by the fact that there are other grown men out there who shamelessly listen to the honestly addicting English/Irish boyband.

“I'm so sorry that happened to you.” The woman up front said. “Did you at least get the license plate of that bitch?”

Harry wasn't sure if he should point out that he personally knows the individual responsible for his setback, he eventually settled with a vague answer, hoping to change the subject. The overcast outside had cleared out and it was now nice and sunny, but still chilly. The group reached the freeway, but it didn't take long for the traffic to start building up. Heavy traffic around this part of the state wasn't super common, not like the more horrendous congestion in downtown Seattle, but the unusually slow going flow of cars was likely the result of a certain presence further up north.

“I wonder if they're visiting the Space Needle or something right now before the show.” One of the woman in the backseat chipped in an attempt to end the awkward silence that managed to fill the car. After three grueling hours, they arrived at the arena where the show was to take place, but they were still very early. They decided to lounge at a nearby burger joint to pass the time.

“So, Harry, tell a little about yourself. What do you do for a living? Or do you go to school?” The man asked.

Harry bit his lip. While he had longed for the opportunity to freely expose his family and their farm of neglected animals, as well as what he has to put up with virtually every day, he wasn't sure how, or if he should bring it up at all. He'd just made some new friends, he didn't want to scare them away or anything. He didn't like lying if he could help it, so he wasn't about to make up some completely random story. If these people were to remain his friends, they could eventually find out that whatever bullshit he shoved down their throats wasn't actually true.

“I'm not in school currently, but I work on a farm.” He finally said.

“Oh, how nice. What do you do on the farm?”

“I just feed the animals, mostly, but there's a lot of heavy lifting involved.”

“I hope it at least pays half decently.” The oldest woman said.

_Yep, $20 about every month. Cha-ching._

“It's all right.”

“Any other plans besides farming?”

“Well, I've been interested in singing since I was little, and I've recently taken up songwriting.”

Much to Harry's relief, he avoided any situation that would have involved being brutally honest about his life at home, which reminded him, it was approaching the time where his parents would be arriving home from work, they would find the house empty, and Harry would usually be outside starting off with the evening feeding time, only he wasn't there doing that either. He was miles away, and they didn't even know. Eventually, they would realize that he's nowhere on the farm, they would ask both of his sisters if they knew of his whereabouts, which neither of them would, all that he had revealed was that he was going on a bike ride, and only his second-oldest sister knew that. His phone would start buzzing soon, with an endless stream of seemingly worried text messages and voicemails. He then proceed to shut off his phone, he wanted his evening to go undisturbed. They would also be upset that he wasn't present for that 'sit-down' that his father had brought up to him the night before. Bloody hell, was he going to be in for it when he got home. He need not worry about that right now though, he had what was likely going to be the best evening of his life getting closer and closer, and he was going to enjoy it, his gnawing fears about what might possibly be in store for him once he returned home pushed to the back of his mind.

With some time to kill, Harry took his bike to a shop and had the rear tire fixed up. When he walked to the arena, he cursed when he realized that he'd become separated from the group, which were also supposed to be his ride back home. Though perhaps he could find a bus station up here that would take him back down south if it boiled down to that. He parked his bike on a bike rack and put himself in the already long line of people at the security clearance. The concert was still a couple of hours away, but he imagined that by the time he made it through all the crowds and to his seat, the show would probably be starting. Once Harry was finally at the tables, he revealed the inside of his backpack to one of the security personnel and he was cleared to enter the building. He handed his ticket to the man at the door and stared in awe at the expansive hallway. The crowd was thicker than soup, many stood in line at the various concession stands, there was even a funny lad arguing with the cashier at one of the stores.

“What do you mean I need to be 21 to buy a drink over here?! What kind of free country is this?!”

Harry examined the plastic card displaying what section his seat was in. He started to navigate through the crowd, sometimes keeping an eye open for his group. He reached the stairs that led to his nosebleed seat. It was an impressive place, the stadium was filled with conversations, some music that was quite unfitting for a One Direction concert played from the sound system near the dark and unoccupied stage, Harry could make out instruments and furniture situated around the designated area where the band members would soon be running around on. He watched with envy at all of the people who were seated right by the stage. Oh well, at least he was going to meet them after the show. He found the row that his seat was in and sat down once he finally reached it. He sighed as his legs could finally rest, he'd done a lot of standing up for a while now. He glanced at his watch, 30 minutes to go.

While his anticipation grew, so did his boredom. He pulled out his phone and turned it on, deciding to browse the internet or something while he waited. Of course, in that moment, he didn't stop to think about what a mistake he was making. The device vibrated almost non-stop as a never-ending flow of notifications poured in. Five whole minutes went by before the phone became still, Harry just stared at the screen, too overwhelmed to do anything. He dared to open up the text messaging app and see what his family had to say. A lot of the messages consisted of “really worried” and “please let us know you're okay”. Sounds innocent enough, right? What parent wouldn't be concerned for their child who left home without any heads up? Even though he is no longer a child... It was a such a contradiction to their true image, it made Harry want to throw up, the way they could put on a charm and convince even the most skeptical of people that they're quite possibly the most happy, loving, caring individuals in the world, while Harry knew better, but his family knew too. Why else would they order him to never tell anyone about what goes on behind closed doors? And what was with his father feeling a need to convince his adopted son that they aren't abusive parents? Harry was certain that he had given no prior hints that he even felt that they were abusive, so that had to have been a conclusion that they had came to on their own terms. Even still, he felt a little bad for making them so worried, even if he was positive that their concern wasn't genuine, at least to a certain point. They were probably most afraid not for the well-being of their youngest child, but rather their farm slave whom they rely on a little too much. They probably came home, itching to unload all of their troubles onto him in the form of demeaning words, only to be disappointed that they didn't get what they wanted because he wasn't there. On top of that, he was absent for the evening feeding time, so his parents presumably had to feed their own stupid pets once it occurred to them that Harry was missing in action.

He stuck his tongue out in thought, and decided to finally reveal where he was at and what he was doing. He was already at the concert, they couldn't stop him now, so he figured that it was safe to tell them.

“ _I'm at a concert in Seattle. I'll be back tonight, probably late.”_

“ _Thank you for letting us know.”_

He quickly shook his head and shut off his phone. He could almost guarantee that the message he'd just read was merely masking the true emotions of the person behind it. Had this conversation taken place in-person, within the privacy of their own home, it would have been much, much nastier. They probably refrained from saying anything incriminating to him through the text messaging, because he could possibly show it to other people, and expose his parents for who they really are. God only knows what Harry could expect once he did return home. He shivered a little, but he didn't think it was from the cold. The stadium was at a pretty comfortable temperature, and it was only a matter of time before it would become considerably hotter.

Harry scanned around the stadium, hoping to spot his group somewhere, they had different seats than him, but he didn't know exactly where. While he was busy with his phone, more people had piled in as showtime came closer, which only made the little game of “I Spy” more difficult. Suddenly, the unfitting music stopped and the lights dimmed, with only the stage being lit, the crowd going wild. A familiar voice boomed from a microphone and sure enough, Louis Tomlinson himself came to the front of the stage, followed by the other three, Zayn, Liam, and Niall. “Hello, Seattle!” The cheers, whoops, and screams becoming impossibly louder by the second. Despite how far away he was, Harry could easily make out the beauty of the four young men, he almost didn't believe that he would actually be meeting them before the night is over. His initial worries were effectively forgotten once more as the sounds of instruments began to rattle the stadium.

He felt like he was in heaven, a wide grin constantly plastered on his face, his heart swelled every time Louis looked towards his general direction.

“Are we having a good time?!” Louis shouted into the microphone, loud cheers filled the arena. “Any guy fans out there? Any at all?” A pathetically weak collection of shouts could be heard, which caused the crowd to laugh. “Oh, come on, is that all?” He joked. Harry tried to make as loud of noise as he could, hoping that he would be heard given how far away he was.

“There we go!” Louis beamed. “There's another one!” The crowd laughed even more. Harry wondered if it was possible for your face to get sore from smiling so much like he was doing right now. He didn't want this night to end, he was having the time of his life, though his feelings were probably mutual with the majority of the people here, he could hear girls calling out the boys' names, trying desperately to get their attention. The people who were by the stage often tried to reach over and grab one of them, only to be forced apart by security if they succeeded. The smile on Harry's face never vanishing as the show went on, and even when it came to a close, because he knew that he would be meeting them soon, he would be close enough to touch them, smell them. He could hardly contain his excitement. The boys bid their goodbyes and thanked the crowd, even giving a few quick high-fives to some of the people closest to the stage before they departed and disappeared behind a wall. Harry sat there for a couple minutes, very mesmerized by the amazing experience, and it was only going to get better once he was backstage. He got up from his seat and headed to the ground level where a very long line of people stood, The line also moved much more slowly than the one outside for security clearance. He gazed around the corner, taking in how many people were ahead of him, the line spanned more than halfway around the inside perimeter of the stadium, probably at least one-fifth of the concert goers were waiting anxiously to meet the band. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the line inched closer and closer. Harry glanced behind him a few times, noting that there was nobody else behind him, meaning that he was the last one in line. He hoped the boys wouldn't be too tired by the time he finally reached them. It felt like hours before he was able to catch a glimpse of the room where the band was, a large number of fans still in front of him, carrying signs, posters, t-shirts, and numerous other items that they wished for the group to sign. Breathing became increasingly difficult as he was finally the next in line. He followed the security guard inside the room when he noticed his legs started to feel like a gelatin dessert, he tried his best to compose himself as he approached the four young men sitting on the large sofa. Harry swallowed thickly, scared that he might not be able to find his voice.

“Last one, guys.” The security guard informed.

“Thanks.” Louis said, before turning his attention to the nervous wreck of brown curls shaking before him. When he smiled at the boy, Harry felt like he was going to faint, and since he remained silent, Louis initiated. “Hello, would you like to tell us your name?”

 _I'd like to do a lot of things with you._ “Um, uh, H-Harry.” He uttered quietly.

“Nice to meet you, Harry.” Louis shook his hand. He was actually shaking his hand! Harry froze, he just didn't know what to do with himself. He snapped out of it as he remembered his manners. He cleared his throat and formally greeted the other three boys.

“Hello.”

“Pleasure.”

“You're not from around here, are you?” Liam asked. “You've got the accent.”

Harry was ready to tell his heroes about himself, but uncertain about time constraints, but Louis assured him that he didn't need to rush, he was the last meet-and-greet, and he gave the boy permission to take his time, Harry's heart never skipping a beat every time Louis spoke to him. He glanced at the other boys, making sure it was OK with them before he began. He told them about how he was orphaned as a baby, he lost his family to a drunk driver and was placed in an orphanage where he was adopted by an American family who lives on a horse farm. When he was pressed for details about his family and his life on the farm, he hesitated at first. Maybe this time he should actually spill his heart out, he'd been aching to do so for such a long time, but there was a combination of not wanting to make his family angry, and not wanting to make other people uncomfortable, as domestic violence and animal abuse aren't exactly casual topics, that ultimately prevented him from going into detail. He proceeded to talk about his interests in singing and songwriting instead. This definitely got everyone's attention, and soon, they were asking Harry to give them a little performance.

“Oh, I don't know...”

“Come on, mate, you can do it!” Niall encouraged, giving him two thumbs up.

Encouragement from another person,. it was such a foreign experience to Harry, he wasn't immediately sure on how to even react, but he knew that he did love to sing, especially in front of people, except his family. He took a deep breath to calm the butterflies in his stomach before correcting his posture and inhaling.

 _Isn't she lovely  
__Isn't she wonderful_  
_Isn't she precious_  
_Less than one minute old_  
_I never thought through love we'd be_  
_Making one as lovely as she_  
_But isn't she lovely made from love_

The cheers and applause from his boys filled him with such ecstasy, he smiled and bowed before muttering a shy “Thank you.”

Zayn was rubbing his chin in thought before saying. “You're pretty good.” Liam and Niall threw in their agreements.

“Pretty good?!” Louis exclaimed, shooting the younger boy a bewildered look before returning his gaze to Harry. “Seriously, Harry, how do you _not_ have your own singing career yet?”

 _My parents won't let me._ “I just haven't gotten around to it.”

“We should definitely change that. A voice like yours should not be going to waste.”

Harry blushed, hearing Louis Tomlinson speak was music to his ears, throw in some compliments to mix and then he was officially captivated. Niall, Liam and Zayn were nice too, they were all wonderful people, just as he'd expected them to be. How amazing would it be to travel together around the world, singing and performing side-by-side with these fine young men?

“So, where are you from, exactly?” Liam asked.

“I live on a farm about 90-something miles south of here.”

“That's quite a drive.” Zayn observed. “But you came all the way up here just to see us?”

“You better believe it, I wouldn't have missed it for the world.” Harry beamed, Louis smiled at this. “And I technically don't drive, I ride a bicycle.”

Louis' beautiful blue eyes widened. “You rode a bloody bicycle 90 miles to get here?”

“No, no, I was originally going to a bus station, but I got hit and was stranded, then a lovely group of people who were also going to the concert gave me a lift, which reminds me, I was separated from them earlier, and I never found them again.”

Niall frowned. “How are you planning to get back home then?”

Harry shrugged. “Probably find another bus up here somewhere, but I don't know if many of them operate this late at night.” He looked at his watch, it was 11:30 PM. “I guess if I really had to, I could ride my bike home.”

“Fear not, my boy! For there is a bus that's headed your way!” Louis said eagerly, while everyone else sent him a puzzled expression for his sudden enthusiasm. “Our next stop is Portland, Oregon, your abode is en route, we can give you a lift on our tour bus.”

“Buh, ah, a-- _What?_ ” Harry stammered.

“Um, Louis?” Zayn raised his hand.

“You heard me correctly,” Louis faced Harry while gripping the younger boy's shoulders. “We'll give you the ultimate chaperon experience! How's that sound?”

“Louis?” Zayn spoke a little louder.

“What is it?” Louis hissed. “Can't you tell that I'm in the middle of making this fine man's night one to remember?”

“Can we speak alone, please?”

Louis sighed. “Pardon me, lads, my father wants to talk to me.” He finished with a smirk before turning and walking with Zayn around a corner. Harry felt some uncertainty about the situation, Niall somehow sensed his discomfort and gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

“Don't worry, they're not gonna kill each other or anything.” Liam chuckled.

Once the two of them were out of sight and earshot, Lious turned to face Zayn with a huff, though the younger man could easily detect the sarcasm in Louis' actions, so he ignored them.

“All right, you got me, what is it then?”

“So, you're just going to invite some random fan onto our tour bus?” Zayn raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, what of it?”

“I just hope you know what you're doing. First of all, this might not sit well with our security team...”

“I can handle it, Zayn, please don't worry about it.” Louis said. “I just want to show the lad a good time. That's all.”

“Are you sure it has nothing to do with his good looks?” Zayn's serious expression now replaced a sly smirk.

“What are you getting at?” Louis squinted.

“Well, the way you two looked at each other back there, it was like one of those love-at-first-sight moments.”

“Shut up!” Louis playfully smacked his bicep. “So what if he is rather cute? Can't I return the appreciation that adoring fans give to us?”

“I never said you couldn't.” Zayn defended. “I'm just hoping that gimmicks like giving fans rides on the bus isn't going to become some sort of trend with you or anything. Otherwise, we'll never hear the end of it from management, or the media.”

“Zayn, relax. I told you, I've got it under control.” Louis reassured. He smiled and wrapped an arm around him. “You worry too much.”

“Hey, somebody has to.”

They returned backstage, where Niall had Harry engrossed with some crazy story that he likely made up, considering the face that Liam was making that went unnoticed by the other two.

“Have a good time?” Niall asked suggestively, to which both Zayn and Louis sent him a death glare.

“It wasn't anything like that, and you know it.” Zayn grumbled.

“Now wipe that grin off your face before I smack it off.” Louis threatened.

The Irish boy pouted. “Liam! They're being mean!”

Harry laughed as the scene unfolded. The playful banter between the four of them was so amusing and adorable, to say the very least. He was willing to admit that he was jealous, having grown up with no siblings near his age, or any friends whatsoever, he missed out on so much as a kid. And to think, they were all older than him, and none of them were related, but their bond, the brotherly love was there just the same. They were like a family, one that Harry could only wish that he could be a part of. Heck, _anything_ would be better than what he's got. It might not be the nicest thing he could say about his adopted family, but they themselves weren't exactly nice people, and Harry generally tried to be a kind, caring individual, or just about every positive trait that his family wasn't.

“Come on, lads, let's hit the road.” Louis announced.

Liam stifled a yawn. “Sounds good, I'm beat.”

“Sorry for keeping you guys out so late.” Harry said awkwardly.

“Ah, don't sweat it, Curly.” Niall pitched in, wrapping Harry in a side hug as they began walking. “You're fun to have around. Hey, Zayn, can we keep him? Please?” Harry smiled widely.

“I don't know, Niall, how can I be sure that you'll remember to feed this one?” Zayn asked, a smug look evident on his face. The blonde boy tried to look hurt, but it only added to Harry's amusement. He could definitely get used to hanging with these guys, they really brought the life out in him, though he's probably not the only person who feels that way. After all, he's only one of their millions of fans, and that number is rising by the day. This time next year, they might even forgot about him, he'd just be another one of their adoring followers in a huge crowd of other followers. He wasn't special or anything. But he would avoid those thoughts for now and enjoy the company of his heroes. He was ecstatic that he would be spending extra time with them, as they were kind enough to offer him a ride home... To be honest, he didn't want to go home, he felt very certain that his arrival would not be met with welcoming arms, but rather loud voices and red faces, words that would sting worse than a hive of angry bees. He could already feel his chest and shoulders tensing as his body started to fill with dread. Remembering that Sixth Sense Niall was within close proximity of him, he tried to shake his anxiety away so that the older boy wouldn't ask him something that he would struggle to answer.

The group walked with Harry to collect his bicycle at the front of the stadium, which miraculously had not been stolen, as it wasn't secured to the bike rack. The boys, as tired as they felt, were eager to take a short walk without being on the leash that their team kept them on. They stayed alert though, just in case there was anybody around who would recognize them. With how late it was, the parking lot and nearby streets were pretty empty, the faint smell of cigarette smoke was mixed with the cool, crisp air, the surrounding blacktop illuminated in orange by the light posts scattered about. Louis, Liam, Zayn, and Niall led Harry around the building to where their bus was parked. Louis opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing for Harry to enter first. The boy pushed his bike, rolling the tires over the steps and into the interior of the large vehicle. He leaned it against a wall so that it was out of the walkway, then turned and waited for the rest of the boys to pile inside. Harry observed his new surroundings, impressed by what he saw. Multiple sofas that looked very comfortable, Liam immediately collapsed onto one of them. A well stocked kitchen cabinet and fridge, freshly vacuumed carpeting, and down the hall were two bedrooms, plus a bathroom. Towards the other end of the bus was a narrow booth and table near the kitchen, and the driver's quarters.

“And so, this is our tour bus. We're making plans to upgrade in the future.” Louis plopped down on one of the other sofas. “Make yourself at home, Harry.” Harry realized how tired he was himself, so he dropped himself next to Louis on the sofa. Sighing as he landed on the soft material. He nearly regretted it a few seconds later when the motion caused his back to start acting up again. Ever the observant Niall was the first to notice and promptly asked Harry if he was all right.

“Just a little back pain.” Harry grimaced. “Nothing serious.”

“I don't think so.” Niall shook his head, he clearly wasn't having any of it. “Any of you lads got any acetaminophen?”

“I might have some.” Zayn offered. “Let me go check.” He then got up from the kitchen booth and went down the hall towards the bedrooms. Harry tried to protest, insisting that the service wasn't necessary, but the Irish blonde never ceased in fretting over him like a mother hen. He honestly appreciated it though. It was such a stark contrast to home, where if he had a problem, he would be told to take care of it himself, and if he asked for help, he would reprimanded relentlessly. By the the time they were done yelling at him or insulting him, he'd either taken care of it or given up. He was asked what the cause of his back pain was, that is if he knew, which he did, but he found himself struggling to come up with the right words when Zayn reappeared with a bottle of pain relievers and a glass of water. Liam apparently had ended his brief slumber and was now listening as well. Harry thought that he could just mention about when he was struck on his bike earlier today, but that wasn't the original cause of his sore back, plus he didn't feel confident enough to go with that excuse. He sat there for a moment, all eyes on him. _It's now or never._ he figured. This was as good of opportunity as any to release all of the dark secrets bottled up inside of him about his life on the farm with his adopted family, if anyone would understand, or at least be willing to offer their ears, it would be these four boys that were eyeing him with unmistakably genuine concern. Harry took a deep breath, starting off by uttering a few words rather slowly, but it didn't take long for speaking to become more easy. Soon, words and sentences flowed effortlessly out of his mouth, he started to get carried away and left almost no detail untouched. It felt like a whole weight was lifted off of his shoulders, it actually felt good, he wasn't willing to stop when he had the chance, only once he'd run out of things to say did he come to a halt. Realization sank in, these young men knew everything now, they knew about the way his parents are, the way they treat their farm animals, the way they oppress him, belittle him, manipulate him, and make him feel worthless. They knew that he's battled depression and suicidal thoughts, he even told them about the night he was seriously contemplating on ending his life after his entire family had unleashed hell on him all throughout the day, only to lose the motivation to actually try anything drastic after he started staring at one of his One Direction posters in his room.

Harry had heard stories before about victims of domestic violence not being believed, usually it was the other people who knew the abusers, but only their good side, who doubted the victim. None of these boys knew his family, but that didn't stop him from looking for any signs of skepticism on their faces, or any other sign that they would laugh at him, or assure him that his family couldn't possibly be as bad as he presents them to be, and that he was too sensitive. He detected none of that, however, and none of it ever came. Niall actually started crying, both Liam and Zayn frowned while gazing at the floor, Zayn messaging his chin while Liam then proceeded to comfort Niall. Harry didn't notice right away that Louis had wrapped his arms around him and brought his face to rest on the older boy's chest. This honestly was not the reaction he was expecting to get, but he welcomed the comfort he got from Louis' warm embrace. Harry closed his eyes as he savored the moment of being so close to Louis Tomlinson, if only it were under better circumstances. The other four silently looked at each other, unsure of what to do, but expecting someone else to make a suggestion. Finally, Louis looked down at Harry's face.

“Harry, if there is anything we can do to help you, please, tell us.” He pleaded softly.

“We should at least notify the authorities.” Liam said, still holding a red, puffy eyed blonde boy in his arms.

“N-no.” Harry gasped, now in a mild panic. “That will just make them mad. They still hold a grudge from the last time I did that.”

“Harry, your family is literally committing crimes.” Zayn stated. “And the way they treat you, you can't keep living with them, that would drive almost anybody insane.”

“I know that, it's just... I don't like making them upset, I don't like getting yelled at. I'm tired of getting yelled at.” He whimpered.

“Let us help, then. Please.” Louis pleaded again. “You're a good person, Harry, you've got a lot to live for, and you deserve better.”

“But, what would I do? I would have no home, and I already have no job, I don't have very much money either.”

Louis looked at the other three, they each returned the gaze before Louis returned to face Harry. “You know, me and the lads have been discussing this for a while now, we'd like to add a fifth member to the band, and you seem like a very good candidate.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry looked at Louis as if he had grown a second head.

“You're currently unemployed, yeah? I'm offering you a job, here, One Direction shall be a five-man boyband. And there's space at my flat, you and I can bunk together while we take care of business.”

Harry blinked. “But I'm not a professional singer.”

“A little training can solve that. You got such a great voice already, I hardly see a need for it to be honest.” Louis' compliment made the boy blush. “We would just need to get you situated, formally introduce you to our team, get you a contract. We can make it all happen.”

“Yeah!” Niall cheered, his face was still tear stained, but his personality was a lot brighter than it was just a few minutes ago. “Come on, Harry, join our crazy family!”

Harry chuckled and scratched the back of his head. “I don't... This is a lot to take in. Can I take some time to think about it?”

“Of course.” Liam nodded.

“OK, time's up. Now please say yes!”

“Niall,” Zayn said warningly. “I'm sure he needs more time than that.”

He couldn't believe it, he was at least half certain that this was just a dream or something, it felt so surreal. He was being offered the chance of a lifetime, not only to become an international popstar, but to get away from his oppressive life on his parents' farm. It was too good to be true. But in this case, it was both good and very much true. But he also couldn't help but feel like a coward, fleeing from his abusive family without standing up to them, it felt like he was proving them right for the many times they made him feel weak, emotionally that is. He knew he'd have to be a fool to turn down Louis' offer to join One Direction, but it almost didn't seem right. Sure, getting away from his family is on his bucket list, and he was being given the opportunity, but along with that, he was being handed possible fame and wealth on a silver platter, he didn't deserve that. He grew a little frustrated as decision after decision went through his head, unable to fully pick one. He knew which one he wanted the most, but he only hesitated because it didn't feel like he was right to go with it. He sighed, some of the answers he could give kind of went against his desire to be free. He thought about the last conversation he had with his family via text message, he still felt bad for making them worried even though it was likely that they didn't really care, but what would the odds ever be that they've finally come to their senses and he can learn to trust them and actually grow closer to them, like an actual family? He'd thought about this over the years, thinking that maybe, just maybe, his family had turned a new leaf and things would get better, though every time he did, they would prove him wrong, every single time.

What would his birth family suggest if they were still alive? Would they encourage him to follow his dream, while at the same time running away from his adopted family like a coward? Or would they want him to keep fighting a battle that may or may not ever end? His adopted family was probably sitting on their arses right this moment, saying bad things about him non-stop... He exhaled through his nose, a fire was growing inside of him, what started as barely a flicker of light was now transforming into a roaring flame. This newfound determination was like nothing he'd ever felt before. He sat up straight on the couch, everybody looking at him expectantly.

“I've made a decision...” He closed his eyes and breathed once. “I'm going back home.”

Silence filled the bus, only the sound of surrounding traffic, the bus's engine, and the wheels rumbaing over the asphalt could be heard, and they became increasingly louder as the seconds passed. Apparently, they hadn't noticed their driver who came in while they were engrossed with each others company, and they were already heading south on the interstate.

“Harry,” Liam was the first to speak up, his voice low and soft. “Are you sure?”

Harry nodded, the sadness in his eyes evident. “I have to. I can't just run away like a scared little baby. I must prove them wrong, I'm stronger than they think I am.”

“Harry,” Louis began. “You don't have to prove shit to them. Just imagine once they see you on TV, singing onstage in front of a massive crowd, don't you think that would get the message through?”

“That's another thing, it shouldn't come this easy, I... I don't deserve it.”

“Yes, you do.” Louis insisted. “Your family might have made you feel like you deserve nothing but their lack of love, but trust me when I say that you deserve all the love you could possibly receive, and more.”

“Harry?” Niall whimpered, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks. “Don't go.”

Harry looked at the floor, unable to look the Irish boy in the eyes. “I'm sorry, Niall, this... this is something I have to do.”

“Harry, just listen to reason here--”

“Louis.” Zayn interrupted. “I think we need to let Harry decide what he wants to do, he is a grown man after all.”

“Obviously he's been conked in the head or something, because he's not thinking right.” With that, Louis stomped off towards the bedrooms, ignoring his bandmates' attempts to scold him. Harry instantly felt a new wave of guilt wash over him as he watched the older boy disappear. He didn't mean to make Louis upset, he thought he was doing the brave thing by refusing to hide from his family, he would stand up to them unafraid, he would prove that he's not emotionally weak. His confidence was short lived, and it was pretty much gone after he watched the bedroom door slam shut. He was already regretting his decision, but it seemed that it was too late, Louis seemingly hates him now and wants nothing to do with him. He swallowed thickly, it was bad enough being rejected by your own family on a daily basis, but to be rejected by Louis Tomlinson was a whole 'nother ballgame. Liam tried to assure the curly-haired boy that Louis wasn't upset with him personally, but it did nothing to ease the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The ride continued in an awkward silence until Zayn inquired Harry about his songwriting. Eager to break the deafening quiet, Harry pulled the notepad from his backpack where he'd scribbled down some words and phrases. He tried not to think about how Louis was part of his inspiration as he read them out and showed them off.

“These are really good.” Liam said. “We definitely got to use them in a song.”

The large bus rolled along a familiar bumpy gravel driveway, any good feeling inside Harry was surely slipping out. It was dark out, so they couldn't make out much other than what the headlights shined upon. Numerous dogs barked at the strange thing rumbling by, Harry watched with dread as they approached his parents' house. He was for certain now that he'd made a terrible mistake, but Louis had yet to come out of the bedroom, and was probably still not in any mood for apologies, or even goodbyes, as Harry was now gathering his bag, he thanked the boys for the wonderful time, and for the pain meds. He hugged each of them, with Liam and Zayn having to pry Niall off of him so that he could leave. There was still no sign of Louis, it was suggested that Harry could knock on the door and see if Louis was willing to speak to him, but Harry decided not to. He didn't want an upset Louis to be his last memory of the blue-eyed boy, although that's technically what he's got already after he had stormed off for the bedrooms. With tears threatening to well up, Harry bid a final goodbye to Zayn, Niall, and Liam. They stayed there parked at the front of the yard, waiting until Harry was actually inside the house before they would depart.

Louis finally emerged from the bedroom, he looked around, noting how there was one person missing. “He just went inside his house. There's still a chance to tell him goodbye.” Zayn said.

Louis shook his head and sighed. “I probably upset him with the way I acted, I can't imagine him wanting to talk to me.” He looked down at the bicycle leaning against the wall, it was Harry's, he'd forgotten it. He studied the helmet that hung from the handlebars, it was covered with band-themed stickers. He pondered for a moment, then urged the driver to stay put before he could ease onto the gas pedal. Louis grabbed the bike and pushed it alongside him as he exited the bus and crossed the front yard, approaching the house. He leaned the vehicle against a post and stood in front of the door, gathering his nerves.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some physical stuff is about to go down.

When Harry entered the house, he scrunched his face, after he'd been gone most of the day, he'd forgotten how much the place reeked of dog shit. All he could hear was the TV going in the entertainment room. It was quieter than he expected it to be, but it is rather late, his parents might be in bed, his mother sleeping in the entertainment room as usual, it looked like most of the lights in the house were off too. He was about to ascend the stairs when he heard his father call his name from the entertainment room, apparently people in the house were still awake. Sighing, he trudged carefully through the narrow pathway on the cluttered floor and mentally prepared himself. He could do this, he could be strong in front of his parents. He was an adult now, if all his parents are going to do is yell at him, they can go ahead, he would refuse to be under constant scrutiny any longer merely because they have loud voices and say harsh words. Despite the late hour, both of his parents were awake, sitting in the dark room with only the TV providing any light, but it was plenty enough to see.  
  
“Did you have a good time?” His father asked, he turned his attention away from whatever show was currently playing to look at his adopted son, his voice calm yet still unsettling.  
  
“Yes, thank you.” Harry replied.  
  
“Good, I'm glad.” This was confusing, he was expecting to get yelled at the moment he walked through the door, but that hasn't happened, at least not yet. Maybe Harry was wrong to have doubts, maybe things were finally going to improve for the better, for real this time. His confidence was starting to slowly reappear, this might even be easier than he'd thought, and he actually started to feel silly for worrying. Maybe he'd finally did it with his day-trip to Seattle, his parents are finally going to acknowledge that their son is no longer their cute little baby, but a grown man who can make his own decisions. Of course, he would be sure to promise to never sneak off to a concert again without at least informing them ahead of time, but he could handle that. Just as long as they would start treating him with some dignity, loosen the tight leash they had on his freedom, and respect him as an equal. He briefly forgot about all of the concerns he'd had earlier and was ready to look forward to some much needed change in his life around here. He could already picture himself appreciating his family's company more, a concept that seemed all but impossible at one point. As far as he was concerned, his father didn't appear willing to reprimand his son, which he had to admit felt so strange, but he welcomed it, and was already hoping that this would become more common with his parents. He could also visualize himself actually staying here, helping out his family and them returning the favor periodically, no one would yell, or insult each other, they could learn to be a truly happy family, it actually had Harry mildly excited. He was glad he'd went off to see his favorite band perform, he got to meet his heroes, and his actions leading up to now with him coming home late at night without his parents' prior permission to leave the farm, it actually seemed like it caused his family to come to their senses. For the first time since he could remember, he was in the presence of his parents with the anxiety within him fading. This is how it should be, no one should ever be in constant fear of the ones who are supposed to love them unconditionally. He looked over towards his mother, she was reclined back in the chair, but still awake and her face glued to the TV.  
  
“Sorry for worrying you, mom.” He offered.  
  
“Well, you should be, you ungrateful little shit.” She spat. “Why weren't you hear to feed the animals?”  
  
“Sorry,” He apologized again. “This concert was one I really wanted to see, I even got to meet the band and they gave me a ride home on their tour bus, I was just too afraid to tell you about it, because I thought you would stop me or say I couldn't go. I promise I won't anything like that again, just please don't be too upset.”

“The animals got a late dinner, no thanks to you.” She almost sounded as if she hadn't heard a word that he'd just said. “Don't ever do that again, we were worried sick about you. We thought you'd been kidnapped or something, and you didn't even ask for permission to go someplace.“

“I said I was sorry, and I won't do it again.” Once again, his internal strength was losing it's grip.

“You better not.” His mother warned. “And don't ever leave home with asking one of us first.”

“I am an adult now, mom, I don't need your permission. But I am willing to inform you if I am going somewhere. It's only polite.”

“Oh, like hell you don't need permission. We do so much for you, and yet you can't even show any respect for us at all.”

“I respect you to the best of my ability.” Harry defended. “But you guys don't respect me.”

“Bullshit! You live here rent-free, most kids your age would be kicked out by now and on their own, having to rent an expensive apartment and never getting any help from their parents.”

“I'm not a kid anymore, and if I was working a real job, I'm sure I could handle paying rent, here or elsewhere.”

“A real job? Doing what? Singing a few tunes? You'd never make it without us supporting you. Just look at your sisters, they work regular jobs, yet they still beg your dad and I for money every week.”

“They spend their money irresponsibly, I wouldn't do that.”

“Oh really? How much did it cost you to go to that stupid concert?”

Harry bit his lip. “I only bought a nosebleed seat, it wasn't that much.” He would carefully leave out the part about the much more expensive backstage pass.

“Liar.” She accused. “And you wonder why we don't think you're mature enough to be on your own.”

“What more do I need to do in order to prove that I'm very much capable of taking care of myself? if you would just give me the opportunity...”

“We've given you plenty of chances.” Her voice was not getting any quieter.

“...When?”

“Plenty enough.” She said. “Just stay here with your family, the only people who care about you, the world is a bad place. You can keep making money taking care of the animals. Maybe if you actually saved up instead of blowing it on concert tickets and useless shit about that stupid music group you listen to, you could actually get your own place.”

She was wrong though, they were not the only ones who cared about him, it was practically a lie to say that his family really cared about him, period. Louis, Zayn, Liam, and Niall cared about him, they actually wanted to help him get away from his insane family, they even offered him a place within the band, which he stupidly turned down. Oh, God, how could he have been so idiotic? He got it in his head that he could actually do something about his family and make them improve somehow, but that theory had gone out the window the moment his mother opened her loud mouth. That group of fellow Directioners who aided him in his time of need cared about him, although he still wasn't sure where they had went off to before going into the arena, but he wasn't concerned about that at the moment. Many people outside of this family cared about him, with no ulterior motive, or expectation of payment or personal gain, they simply cared because they were good people, and because Harry was a good person, Louis even pointed it out to him that he was a... Oh, yeah, Harry's last moment with Louis Tomlinson wasn't really graceful, he allowed the negative feelings to start filling him up. It seemed like there was no point anymore to try and stay positive. He threw away what might've been his only chance to get away from the oppressive thumb of his parents, and now he must suffer the consequences. Louis was correct, he wasn't thinking right when he'd made this decision, he actually thought he could stand up to his parents and succeed. What in his history of living with these people made him even think that he could pull off anything like that?

He wasn't fully ready to give in just yet. He was clinging onto whatever speck of confidence he had left. “I'm willing to carry on this discussion with you, mom, but you're being quite rude. I would appreciate it if you didn't raise your voice.”

“This is MY house, I can do whatever the hell I want!” She shouted, ignoring most of what her adopted son had just said, again. “Don't you dare tell me what I can and can't do.”

“I'm not telling you anything, I'm just asking if you would please stop yelling. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“I don't give a damn, maybe you should grow some balls and stop being such a pansy. Even your sisters are tougher than you.”

Harry stood his ground, but his knees were wobbling a little, and his eyes were getting warm.“I'm not going to keep having this conversation with you if you're just going to insult me. We can discuss this later once you've calmed down.”

“I am calm!” She shrieked. “You're just too sensitive, and you're very disrespectful. I can't believe the way you treat your family, running off all the way up the Seattle without saying anything to us, making us so worried about you. I thought I raised you better than that.”

“I'm surprised you raised me at all.” He grumbled quietly.

“What was that?!” His mother demanded. “”What did you just say?

“I'm going to bed. Goodnight.” He finally announced before walking out of the room.

“Don't walk away when I'm talking you! I asked you a question. I highly doubt that you just said you were going to bed.”

“Harry, your mom isn't done talking to you.” His father called.

“Well, I am done, I'm tired, I'm going to bed.” Harry stated, never skipping a footstep as he headed for the stairs. Without warning, his view turned sideways. He now found himself rubbing both his head where it had collided with the wall, and his stinging cheek. He stayed in that position on the floor for a moment before daring to turn around and see his seething mother standing behind him. He was shocked, not because he'd just been hit, but because he'd just been hit by his mother. His family was never, _ever_ physically violent, at least not to other humans, especially not to him. He had read that psychologically abusive relationships could potentially turn physical without warning, it was especially likely if alcohol is involved, but in this case, it was not a factor. He had figured that because his family tried so hard to send a good image to the outside world, that would have included never leaving visible evidence of their atrocities, they cared too much about the risk of unwanted attention. But with what had just happened now, it seemed like anything was possible. Harry noticed how his father always loved to stare at him after the bathroom incidents, he still remembers the day his family had threatened to get him in trouble for trying to report them to the authorities for animal cruelty, the way his sisters would side with him over their parents when it came to certain disagreements, only to abandon him once he'd given them his full trust. His fuming mother still stood over him with a dangerous look on her ugly mug. Before he knew it, she swung her foot and struck him in his back, a new wave of pain overwhelmed his body, he gasped in reaction. Tears were now flowing freely down his pained face, he hated crying in front of his family, especially his parents, but getting up was a little difficult right now, so he curled into a ball to try and hide himself, even though he knew that he would still appear vulnerable.

“Harry, get up off the floor.” He heard his father say. “The carpet isn't even clean, your mom's dog pissed all over it again today.”

“Shut up! I wished I'd never married you. Goddamn, I wish I could get a divorce.”

“I wish I could get a new family.” Harry mumbled, no longer caring if he was heard or not.

“Why would you say that, Harry?” His father asked with shock that couldn't sound any more fake. And he clearly wasn't going to bother responding to his wife, it's not like he hasn't heard her say that many times before anyway.

“So I wouldn't have to live with a bunch of miserable pricks who wouldn't know what love is if it bit them in the arse. You people can't ever go a single day without arguing, or yelling at somebody. I can't stand it. You never have anything good to say, but you can never keep your mouths shut.”

“Say one more word and I'll shut _your_ mouth up.” His mother threatened.

He didn't care anymore, he was already at his boiling point, nobody else knew what was going on right this minute. His boys were long gone by now, sleeping peacefully in their bunks or their comfy sofas, they didn't need to worry about some random fan who wasn't any of their concern to begin with. He wholeheartedly regrets making such a blatantly dumb choice to return to his family under the belief that things would get better, but he couldn't exactly go back in time, no, he was much too late, he'd sealed his sorry fate the moment he got off that tour bus. He could only blame himself at this point.

Maybe if he angered his parents enough, they would lose their tempers and eventually put him out of his misery. Only one way to find out, and besides, what has he got to lose?

Harry looked up towards the two people who had given him a second chance after he'd lost his own family to a tragedy, his faded, emerald eyes filled with an unnatural amount of hatred. He opened his mouth slowly before the words tumbled out, clear as day.

“Fuck you.”

* * *

Louis found himself trying to think of what to say as he stood at the door, he wasn't sure how long he'd been standing here, but it had to have been a good ten minutes or more. What If Harry didn't want to see or talk to him again? He knew he shouldn't fret over just this one, single fan, but he couldn't help himself. Harry was special, there was something about the curly-haired boy that Louis couldn't quite put his finger on. He will confess that when he first laid eyes on him, it was like his breath had been taken away, the young man was beautiful, and he was very talented. When he'd told them all about his life at home, Louis just wanted to wrap the kid up and never let anyone else touch him, he wanted to assure him with sweet nothings and spoil him rotten, he wanted to show Harry that he was lovable, or at least make him smile, Louis absolutely adored those dimples when Harry smiled. It ached him to think that he may have lost him forever after the way he acted on the bus, but he could at least try and make contact with him one last time. At least he would know for sure how Harry felt by now, Louis probably wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if he went on with his life without finding out. He just had to know, whether Harry was willing to forgive him and speak to him a final time, or if he no longer wanted anything to do with him, he had to know, one way or another. _Say, maybe we ought to do a cover of that song..._

Louis was about to ring the doorbell when he heard the sound of something colliding into something else, it almost sounded like an open palm slapping skin, but it wasn't super loud, so it was hard to tell, it was followed by a distinct thud. He paused for a moment and continued to listen. He heard an older man say something, then a woman, an unpleasantly angry sounding woman, yelled, presumably at the older man. A third person spoke, it was quieter than the first two voices, Louis found himself with his ear pressed against the door so that he could hear what was being said. The voice was undeniably Harry's, judging by the accent which the older man and the angry woman did not have.

“I wish I could get a new family.”

“Why would you say that, Harry?” The older man asked. Some more talking went on, Louis felt like his ears could bleed out every time the woman speak, who he now assumed was Harry's adoptive mother, her voice was loud, obnoxious and flat out unpleasant, the harsh tone she spoke in would almost make one wish for hearing loss. Harry's adoptive father sounded like a whiny child in a man's body, he wasn't much easier to listen to than the mother. He remembered Harry explaining that his family once had multiple friends at one point when he was really little, but their social circle shriveled into nothingness as the years went by. Even though he'd never met Harry's family, and only knew about them based on what Harry had revealed to him and other boys, and what he's hearing from the other side of the front door to the house, he can easily understand why no one else in their right mind would want anything to do with these people. It only made him feel more sympathy for Harry, the poor boy had to grow up with no one but these people for company, it amazed him that Harry was able to cling to his sanity all this time and not completely break. It also made him admire the younger man even more, it showed that Harry was a strong individual, probably more than even Harry realizes. Louis really wanted to remind Harry of that, even if he wouldn't believe him.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Harry spat something that he didn't fully catch, it was followed by the thudding of footsteps, then by loud obscenities. Something was slammed into the door on the other side multiple times before something heavy was seemingly thrown to the floor. He heard the father say “Apologize to you mother.”, then the mother said “He''s gonna be plenty sorry.” Louis couldn't hear anything after that. He became increasingly alarmed, as he wasn't entirely sure what was happening behind the door. Instead of ringing the doorbell or knocking, he immediately grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, The squeaky door only budged a little, something was in the way, but he could open it enough to see inside, the putrid smell of dog waste assaulted his nostrils, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. He stuck his head inside, and went pale at what he saw. Harry was on the floor, his face barely showing a blue color, an overweight, dark-haired woman was over him with her hands squeezing his neck. The look of pure hatred on her face sent chills down Louis' spine. The father stood behind her, calmly watching his wife literally murder their adopted son in front of him. Neither of them paid any mind to the loud, squeaky door. With an adrenaline rush building up, Louis stepped back and kicked the door, it promptly came off it's hinges and fell down on the pile of clutter that was preventing it from opening all the way. Harry's father was taken aback by the sudden appearance of the intruder, but his mother didn't budge as she continued her fatal attack on her victim, who made little effort to fight back, which worried Louis even more. Physically violent was something Louis was always willing to become if absolutely necessary to protect himself or the one's he cared about, but he'd almost never had gotten the opportunity to put it to the actual test, he wasn't even sure if he actually had it in him to hold his own. But he didn't stop to think about that as he instantly rushed over and balled his fist, sending it flying directly into the woman's jaw, she immediately released her grip on the unresponsive curly-haired boy on the floor and tumbled to the side, she tripped over more clutter on the floor and crash landed into the wall.

Louis bent over to check on Harry, there was still movement that indicated life. He sighed with relief before turning his attention to the shocked couple.

“You know, Harry told us about you, we know everything, the way you treat Harry, your shitty farm, and you just proved that everything he said was true. Congratulations.”

“Whoever the hell you are, this is none of your Goddamn business.” Harry's mother yelled as she struggled to get back on her feet. “How dare you barge into our house and assault me?! I should call the cops.”

“Wonderful, I'm sure they would enjoy hearing about the attempt you just made on Harry's life, and while they're at it, they can take a tour of your lovely place and see what great farmers you are.”

“Get the hell out of my house!” She screamed. “Leave! None of this concerns you.”

“Get out of here. Now,” Harry's father demanded, pointing a finger towards the doorway, where Liam, Niall, and Zayn were now standing.

“You should all be charged for trespassing!” The mother insisted. “This is private property, none of you are welcome here.”

A groan emitted from the floor followed by a brief fit of coughs. Everyone looked down at the young man still lying there as he came to. He blinked slowly and looked around, he stopped when he laid sight on Louis, who was now on the floor with him and cradling him, he offered a weak smile.

“I'll never get tired of seeing your face.” Harry said hoarsely.

“The feeling is mutual, love.” He could hardly believe that Harry was even trying to be flirtatious in his current situation, but it was all right now. Louis was here, along with his brothers, they were all here for Harry. Louis helped Harry sit up straight before the other boys helped him to his feet. Harry immediately opened his arms and brought all of his heroes in for a hug, he couldn't even begin to express his gratitude, his boys had saved him once again.

“Hmph,” His mother huffed. “You never hug your family like that.”

“Harry, tell your friends to leave.” His father ordered. “We're not done discussing some things.”

“I think,” Louis announced. “Since Harry is an adult who can make decisions for himself, he should decide what happens next.” He smiled at the younger boy, giving him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

Harry looked at his parents in the eyes. “I'm moving out.”

“Like hell you are!” His mother roared.

“You're not going anywhere.” His father stated firmly. “You're staying right here with us, your family, who loves you and does so much for you.”

“You can't tell me what to do anymore... I'm no longer a part of this family.”

“What?” His mother laughed, acting flabbergasted. “Are you disowning us?”

“I am.” Harry nodded. “I've dealt with depression, loneliness, thoughts of suicide, all because of this family, for far too long. I often expected that things would get better, and sometimes it seemed like they would, but it never actually happened. You've made me doubt my worth, you've made me want to end my life, you've made my life a living hell, and as a legal adult, I hear by say, enough.”

“These guys,” He gestured to the four young men surrounding him. “They helped me survive even the most trying of times, I could very well be dead by now if weren't for them. They are always the highlight of my day, no matter how terrible it was, they made all the bad emotions you people constantly filled me with go away. They are... my real family.”

“Let me stop you for a moment, Harold.” Louis interrupted. _Harold? Guess he needs to inform Louis that Harold isn't even his actual name._ “Don't give us all the credit, this was also on you. You are so strong, Harry, weaker people would have cracked much sooner than you.”

“I guess.” Harry agreed. “But you guys definitely made it a lot easier.”

“You're actually calling _them_ your family?” His mother continued to laugh, it wasn't lighthearted though, she always had a tendency to laugh mockingly, as a means to degrade Harry whenever he spoke up, and it usually worked, but it was not having any affect on him this time. “You barely know them, and they barely know you. You can't trust them.”

“I'm very confident that I can trust them.” Harry defended. “And I'm also very confident that I can never trust you, ever.”

“How can you say that to your own mother?” She snapped. “I raised you, I worked my butt off to give you everything you needed. I gave you life!”

“I most certainly did _not_ emerge from your vagina if that's what you are implying.” He said with disgust. “My mother, my real mother, Anne, she gave me life, she brought me into this world. You, you took me into your family, but you only showed me what awful people you all are.”

“You don't know what you're talking about.”

“I've lived with you all for 18 years, I think it's accurate to say that I know exactly I'm talking about.”

“I can't believe what I'm hearing from you.” His father joined in. “After all that we've done for you.”

“It barely adds up to what I've done for you, slaving away for hours each day, the reward being chump change and your constant criticism, putting up with your negativity almost non-stop, I'm tired of being blamed for all of your problems, of always being told I wasn't good enough.” He stopped for a moment and yawned, it was very late now, and the night wasn't getting any younger. “And so I declare again, I am moving out. The boys have offered me a job as well as a place to live and I'm accepting it. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to gather my belongings.” Harry turned and headed up the stairs, not giving his adoptive parents a chance to say anything more to him. Louis, Niall, Zayn, and Liam all followed Harry up to his bedroom. When they entered the room, Harry immediately sought after a pair of dusty suitcases in his closet that he had never used before, because he did virtually no traveling since he's lived here. He packed only all of the clothes he wanted to bring, which was all of his One Direction t-shirts, plus a few sweaters and coats. He already figured that if he ever needed more clothes, he could go shopping some time in the future. Once he had gathered all the clothing he wanted to take with him, he zipped up one of the suitcases that was now full and proceeded to fill the other one with his laptop and posters.

“Do you really need those, Harry?” Louis asked. “You've got the real things now.” He smirked.

“They hold a special place.” He admitted. “Of course, they could never replace you.” He grabbed one suitcase and Louis took the other. Liam expressed concern about the untidy state of Harry's bedroom, which he assured was his mother's doing, not his, as he pointed to a mountain of laundry that didn't even belong to him. He was honestly a very clean person, he actually enjoyed cleaning, but he never told his family that, otherwise they never would have _not_ called upon him to clean all of their impossible messes and never ending clutter, not that they didn't do that a lot anyway. The group descended the stairs, Harry collected his backpack and headed for the doorway that was still missing it's door, which was still on the floor where it landed after Louis had kicked it.

“Harry, you should really wait and give this some serious thought.” His now former father suggested. “You're obviously not thinking straight right now.”

“I've had many years to think about it, and I've made up my mind.”

“I really think you should stay here with your mother and father. We still love you.”

“Why would I stay here?” Harry asked. “So you can look at my wanker when I'm using the toilet?” His now former mother looked confused upon hearing this, but rather than comment on it, she began to panic as he walked out the doorway and started protesting his departure.

“You're being brainwashed, Harry!” She exclaimed. “They're brainwashing you! You don't really want to leave your family! They're making you think that you do!”

Harry and the four boys silently shot each other a puzzled expression in response to the woman's absurd claims. Not willing to listen to the ranting any further, he continued walking away. He asked for someone to grab his bicycle, in which Niall obliged. The unpleasant couple stood on the porch and unleashed a flow of words that only came off as incoherent shouting as far as Harry was concerned. He did make out the older man saying that he should at least tell his sisters goodbye, but he was not interested, and he had no plans to do so. He was ready to leave this all behind for good, he wanted no further reminders of this life. They piled into the tour bus and Louis promptly gave the driver the OK to get them out of here. With a cup of coffee in hand, their driver brought the engine to life, effectively drowning out whatever noise was still emitting from the house across the yard and the large vehicle rolled forward.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter!

They sat all of Harry's luggage on one of the couches. They were all very tired and eager for some sleep. This had turned out to be a very long day, especially for Harry, they had plenty of things to discuss now, but they would hold it off for a time when they are less drowsy. They did have to figure out where Harry would sleep, there was only four beds, besides the sofas. It was a little noisier out by the sofas than in the bedrooms though, but Harry assured them that he didn't mind, the sofas were reasonably comfortable anyway. That is until Niall voluntarily gave up his bunk, which was shared with Louis, and he wouldn't take no for an answer.

“You'll have to meet Paul, oh, and Simon, Simon Cowell. You've heard of him, right? I guarantee you that he will love your singing voice. And don't get me started on the fans.” Niall babbled excitedly as he made himself a bed on one of the sofas that was not full of luggage.

“Let's not get too carried away now.” Harry chuckled. “It's a bit early to make those conclusions, don't you think?”

“Hogwash! I bet you'll be the most popular one of us yet!”

“Whatever you say.”

They all bid their good nights and retired to their beds. Normally, they would have stayed in a hotel, but their plans had changed, not that they were going to complain, as it was for a good cause. Now rid of the obscure "redneck band-aid" on his arm and replacing it with a real one, Harry donned a One Direction t-shirt and a comfy pair of shorts, he tiredly pulled the covers aside of Niall's bed and climbed in, he sighed as his body, which had a fresh dosage of pain meds within, sunk into the smooth, soft material and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Louis made sure that Harry was settled in before turning off the light and getting into his own bed. He was certain that he would be out by the time his head hit the pillow, he was so ready for some shuteye.

Even though he wanted nothing more than to sleep in the cozy bed he was lying in, Harry was wide awake, his mind decided to start running a marathon that even his exhausted body couldn't calm down. It seemed like many things were now starting to come to the surface. In just one day, after nearly two decades of enduring the endless scrutiny and bullying of the miserable bunch of people he called his family, it was done, his life has changed, he was a free man, all thanks to his new family, his brothers, who could have simply offered their sympathy and then turned a blind eye, but they didn't, they actually wanted to help him, they even gave him a place in their increasingly popular band, of course, they still needed to finalize some things, but he wouldn't think about that right now. After so many years of being made to feel like he was beneath everyone, that he didn't deserve anything beyond conditional love, that he had no real future in his once sorry state of a life, it was all changing, for real this time, and it was none other than the new but already world-famous One Direction that ultimately made it happen. This night could have ended very differently, he could have refrained from telling them about his life with his family, he could have declined the offer from that nice group of people for a ride to the concert, he could have just went back home, and things would have been the same, for the most part. Imagine if he'd returned home from the concert by himself, without the boys giving him a lift. Louis wouldn't have been there to save him, he could have very well been dead by now, though he had been willing to accept whatever fate awaited him at that point. But thanks to his heroes, his will to live was reinstated yet again, and now he could start living life without the people closest to him reminding him every day about how much of a second-class human being he is to them, because the boys of One Direction didn't view him as such, the girls he talked to at that restaurant didn't see him that way either, nor did the nice group of people in the car. On top of that, Niall was already predicting how many other people would be treating him with high standards that his former family hardly ever did. Harry continued to mull over his thoughts, he was prepared to accept that he might not actually get any sleep tonight despite how tired he was. He let out an exhale and the room fell silent, even the low rumbling of the bus could no longer be heard, nor was there any motion that indicated that it was moving. Perhaps the driver became too tired, even with however much coffee he drank, and ended up pulling over somewhere for the night. There weren't many hotels that were close to the farm.

Harry heard bedding shuffle from the other side of the small room, he realized that he was not the only one awake anymore when Louis whispered. “Can't sleep?”

“Not really... you too?”

“Nah,” Louis shrugged. “I was actually sound asleep, but something woke me up.”

“Oh, sorry if it was me.”

“No, it wasn't you, I just... I had a feeling that you weren't asleep, and for some reason, that woke me up.”

“So, that means it _was_ me?”

“Heh, guess so.” The older boy laughed. “So, what's going on in that curly little head of yours?”

“A lot.” Harry admitted. “But there is a question I've been trying to but haven't been able to figure out the answer to.”

“Oh? Care to enlighten me?”

“I don't know, it's... It's kind of complicated. Besides, I'm sure you want to go back to bed.”

“Not happening 'till you tell me.” Louis persisted.

Harry sighed, he already knew that he wouldn't win this battle, but he hesitated before finally opening his mouth to speak again, looking across the small, dark room towards the general direction of the other occupant. “Why did you guys help me?”

Louis blinked a couple of times, that wasn't quite the question he was expecting. “What do you mean, Harry?”

“Louis, I can't possibly be the only fan in the world who lived with a shoddy family and has a good singing voice. Surely I'm not that special. What makes me somehow more important than somebody else, who might be living in a worse nightmare than what I did?”

“Harry,” Louis said exasperatedly. “There very well could be someone else out there in a worse situation than what you had, in fact, there are plenty of 'em out there as we speak. But you have got stop undermining your own struggles. Yes, some people did have it worse than you, but that doesn't mean that you should show such utter disregard for yourself. You are very special, and you deserve more than what your family provided, that doesn't mean that other people in tight spots are any more or lesser than you. I understand that your family made you believe otherwise, but I really hope you'll learn that someday.”

Harry stayed silent for a moment before responding while still feeling unconvinced. “OK.”

Louis smiled. “But that is one thing I like about you, Harry, the concern you show for other people in spite of the shit you were dealing with, you do let yourself get carried away though.”

“I guess so.”. The curly-haired boy said. “I am pleased with the fact that I managed to become more patient and empathetic, while the rest of my family became, well, not so much those things.”

“Did they ever show you unconditional love, like ever?”

“A few times, not very frequently though. There was usually strings attached too.”

Louis sighed sadly. “I wish I could have been there for you, or something, it saddens me to think that people would actually mistreat someone like you the way that they did. It just isn't right.”

“They could have done worse, honestly. I mean, they weren't really sexually or physically abusive, for the most part, at least. Besides, you were there for me.” Harry pointed out. “Usually along with Niall, Zayn, and Liam, you guys were always there for me when I felt like I was alone. Need I remind you that you guys saved my life, more than once? And don't get me started on all the times I imagined you tucking me into bed, or the time I imagined you comforting me and talking to me.”

“Oh, really? Just me, huh?” Louis asked, Harry could tell that he was grinning.

“Sometimes, I guess, but not always. Don't tell the other guys, but you were kind of my favorite band member.”

“Is that so? Well, don't worry, you're secret safe with me.”

“Thanks, Lou.”

“No sweat, Hazza.”

“Oh, so we're already giving each other nicknames, I see?” Harry observed.

“Looks like it.” Louis shrugged.

Harry sighed and leaned back into bed, still as restless yet exhausted as ever. “I still can't sleep.”

“Hmm, what do you propose we do about that?” The older boy asked.

Harry swallowed. “Uh, how about, umm... You know what? Never mind, it's too silly.”

“Don't start that shit again.” Louis warned. “Spit it out, roomie.”

He bit his lip. “Uh, will you, you know, tuck me in, please? It always helped me sleep before.” As soon as he'd finished his sentence, he heard Louis rip the covers off of himself and pad over to the bedside across the room.

“Scoot over.” Louis demanded.

“What?”

“Don't tell me you're going deaf on me, I said “scoot over.””

Unwilling to argue, Harry did as the older boy asked, who proceed to climb into bed beside him, however, he mistook a step and stumbled in the dark.

“Oops!” Louis exclaimed as he landed on top of Harry rather ungracefully.

“Hi.” Harry said nonchalantly. Louis shook off his embarrassment and repositioned himself so that they were lying next to each other and pulled the covers back over the two of them. Louis turned so that he was facing a pair of beautiful green eyes that, even in the dark, he could tell how bright they shined, it was a sight he could stare at forever. Louis wrapped his arms around the younger boy and pulled him closer, he rested the bottom of his jaw over the mess of soft curls. Harry nestled his face into Louis' chest, embracing the warmth that both the blankets and Louis provided against the December chill. Louis landed a quick, gentle peck on the top of his head.

“Me and the boys hug, kiss, and snuggle each other quite often. Just to forewarn you.” Louis whispered.

“That's OK.” Harry said softly. “I think I could get used to it, especially with you.” He pulled his face from Louis' warm chest in order to face him, his bright blue eyes rivaling Harry's green ones in the dark room. They stared for a while, not saying a word, Harry slowly started to move his face closer, gradually closing the gap between them until their noses brushed. They could each feel the other's steady breathing on their lips. As if things were moving in slow motion, they slid their noses against each other, going in opposite directions until their colliding lips prevented any further movement. Harry closed his eyes and Louis followed. The action was light and gentle, after half a minute, they pulled apart and stared again. Smiling, Harry settled back into Louis' chest and snuggled into the warm blankets and the protective arms wrapped around him. He wasn't sure if the other guys kissed and snuggled this way or not, but he honestly didn't care, he felt like a feather gently floating in the air, he felt invincible, nothing would hurt him, physically or mentally, especially while he was nestled in the comforting embrace of Louis Tomlinson.

No more did the cruel words of his adoptive family ring though his ears, no more did he feel hopeless, helpless, unworthy. He felt like he was on top of the world he once doubted his place within. Louis continued to kiss into his curls, Harry sighed with content as his eyelids started to get droopy. Sleep was coming at last, all thanks to Louis.

Harry reopened his eyes, he shifted slightly, which brought a response from the older boy who's arms he was still protected with. “What's wrong, love?”

“What about the animals on the farm?” He asked, Louis noticed the partial fright and sadness within his tone and gave him another reassuring kiss on the head.

“We'll report to the authorities tomorrow, if you want to. Let's just sleep on it, yeah?”

“OK.” Harry relaxed as his eyelids fell heavy once more. The warmth and comfort surrounding him was sure to finally lull him to sleep, that is until another thought crossed his mind.

“Louis?”

“Mm?”

“I never got a picture with you guys when I met you at the concert.”

Louis chuckled though his nose. “But you got something much better, wouldn't you agree?”

“Of course.”

Louis smiled down at Harry as he could feel sleep slowly but surely taking over. It felt so right having Harry in his arms, he would keep the younger boy safe, he was untouchable to anything bad, as long as he had any say in it. Harry might not have had the most glamorous of childhoods, but Louis would be there for the inevitable flashbacks, triggers, nightmares, and whatever else had potential to intrude on the young man's recovery, and he was sure that Liam, Zayn, and Niall would be there to support him too. They all would be there for their newest member, and each other, like always. It still pained him to think about what Harry had to endure for the time he spent living with those people, but he would always remind himself that that's no longer a major concern, Harry was now safe and out of that situation, and he was with his brothers, who would love him, care about him, and protect him, like the family they were. He pondered over one of Harry's previous questions. What was it about Harry that Louis thought was so special? He definitely saw something about him when he first laid eyes on the boy back at the venue in Seattle, it was like an instant bond, and of course, he wouldn't deny that he was good looking, and very talented, he will make a fine addition to One Direction soon enough. Harry, being the humble little bugger that he was, just saw himself as nothing more than another fan, but Louis saw more to him than that, and that feeling only grew stronger when Harry told them about his living conditions, but maybe that was just Louis' protective nature kicking in, something he held for all of the boys, but that fond feeling he had for the younger man hasn't weakened at all since, especially not with what he walked in on at that house, and certainly not now, with Harry snuggled in the safety of his arms. And that kiss... To Louis, it was beyond a simple gesture of affection like it was with the other boys, how complete he felt with Harry close to him, he wasn't sure if he'd been experiencing any empty feelings in the past or not, but whatever void may or may not had been there, Harry filled it just the same. Louis had everything though, three brothers, increasing fame, money, his mum, his sisters, he couldn't ask for anything more, and for the most part, he never did. Then along comes a certain curly-haired young man who he now feels he could never live without. Tonight was originally just another show on their list, seeing the fans never got old though, and now they had a new addition to their family. This might not have been how he expected their evening to end, but he would never have it any other way. Most other people would have heard the exact story Harry told them, and they probably would have brushed him off, tell him he was being irrational, not knowing that Harry was speaking truthfully, he was not exaggerating, and they would have continued on with their own happy lives, not too concerned about a domestic violence victim who they didn't fully believe. Louis and the boys could have reacted the same way, and it made him sick to imagine if they had. Harry would have gone home on his own, and he wouldn't have lived to tell the tale, his family, his mother specifically, would have full-fledged murdered him, and Louis wouldn't have been there to save his Harry. That's why he was alarmed when Harry announced that he wanted to return home in the first place after they had offered him a place in their own family, while none of them could have known exactly what Harry was getting into, they just knew that it couldn't be good. Louis could only thank the gods above that he made one last effort to give a proper goodbye to Harry, which ultimately lead to him saving his Harry's life, and now the younger boy was away from that horrible place, and was right where he belonged, with his brothers, with Louis, in his arms. His Harry...

His Harry? My Harry? Louis' Harry? He realized how possessive he was starting to sound, what would the other lads think if he ever referred to their youngest member aloud that way, or Harry himself? Considering that they've known each other for less than 24 hours, it might come off as it a bit weird, but he had to confess, it felt so right, Harry was his, and he was Harry's, call it love if you wanted to, love had multiple definitions. He loved all of the boys, but was it wrong if he might just love Harry a little more? Did Harry feel the same way? The way the younger man had initiated that kiss could be a sign, or he may have only simply been taking advantage of being in bed with his celebrity crush. It did not feel like the latter though, it felt genuine, the look of pure bliss in his emerald green eyes before they closed for the remainder of the kiss. Maybe the two of them did have something going after all, it might be too early to tell, but there was definitely sparks flying. Louis shook his head, he wouldn't worry about it, he would allow time to tell if these feelings he was having were just feelings or something more. He wasn't going to rush or force something like this, that's not how it should work.

He gazed upon Harry's face, he appeared to be asleep at last, he looked so peaceful, safe and sound from his haunting past, and it only made Louis smile even more knowing that he was the cause of it. “Goodnight, my love.” He whispered inaudibly before slowly planting a soft peck on the boy's forehead. He settled his head on the pillow, his jaw resting over a nest of soft curls, with sleep sure to follow.

“Hey, Lou?” He heard of soft mumble emit from his chest. Louis reopened his eyes. Oh, how he loved Harry's voice, he couldn't possibly get tired of hearing it.

“Yes, Haz?”

“I forgot to ask you guys to sign my album too.”

The older boy rolled his eyes. “Go to sleep, Harry.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> So, yeah, my first 1D fanfic, I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a kudos if you liked it, if you don't mind.
> 
> This had started out as a single chapter story, but when I saw that I managed to cram over 30,000 words into it, I thought "that's pretty big for one chapter", so I read over it and divided it into segments. I tried my best to seek out any errors, but I can't promise that I've corrected every one. I'm honestly rather dissatisfied with how this turned out, but I will accept it as a friendly reminder that there's always room for improvement.
> 
> Have a nice day/evening!


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